


Passive Progressive

by Wealhtheow21



Series: A Common Tongue [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Slavery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealhtheow21/pseuds/Wealhtheow21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Concerning Hobbit(s). Bilbo decides it's about time Kili got out and about a bit more. Things don't quite go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You've all heard this story before, but let me tell it anyway: this was meant to be a one-shot to go into the Subordinate Clauses series, but then it ended up getting too long (groan) and now it will be at least three parts. Don't worry, I haven't abandoned Third Person Singular! Hope you enjoy.

It was a fine morning in October when Bilbo Baggins decided to put his latest scheme into action. He had found, since returning from his adventure, that he was all over schemes and plans where before he had been quite content to plan nothing more momentous than the menu for the day. It was odd, perhaps. And then again, these days he found himself at least partly responsible for the continued advance of another person’s progress, and perhaps that made an eye to the future inevitable. In any case, it was surprising how much he enjoyed his little ideas, considering them one by one and how they might be made to be successful. And now, when Fili and Kili had been his guests for almost two months, and Fili had become cheerful and bright of eye and Kili at least a little less anxious and prone to dark moods, Bilbo decided it was time to take another step forward.

Fili had gone out running very early, and, given the poor weather, he had not insisted his brother go with him. But after an hour or so, the clouds broke up and lifted away, leaving the sky looking washed clean, and although Bilbo would normally have waited for Fili’s return before putting his plan into action, Kili seemed so unusually free of tension that morning that Bilbo thought he should not delay, for with autumn closing in, another such happy coincidence of weather and mood might not strike for many days.

“Now,” he said to Kili, who had been helping him clear up after second breakfast, “would you like to go for a walk?”

“Yes,” Kili replied immediately, which was no surprise, of course, for although Bilbo and Fili had tried again and again to impress upon him that he should only agree to things he truly wanted to do, yet Bilbo could not remember a time he had ever said no to such a question. 

“Splendid!” Bilbo said. “It is marvellous weather for a walk. Mind you take your coat, though, for I think it is rather chilly outside.” And he gestured at the door with a smile. 

Kili stared at him as if waiting for something. Bilbo, having anticipated this reaction, nodded at the door again.

“I do not feel like walking today,” he said. “Hobbits are rather lazy creatures, you know.”

This brought a look of great confusion over Kili’s face, which was quickly replaced by a worried expression. “I not understand,” he said at last.

“You should go for a walk, since you have said you want to,” Bilbo said. “It is a shame to waste such weather. But I will stay here.”

Well, now Kili’s look of worry only increased, and he glanced from Bilbo to the door and back again. 

“I not understand,” he said again. “I should go walk? Alone?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “But only if you want to. But you did say you wanted to, did you not?”

And this was quite unfair, for of course Bilbo knew full well that Kili did not want to go for a walk on his own. But it had begun to weigh heavily on Bilbo’s mind in the last days that Kili still did nothing of his own invention. Indeed, he barely even moved about the hobbit hole without being told where to go and what to do. Bilbo’s scheme was very clever, for he had made sure to have Kili agree to the walk before he knew what it entailed, and now if he did not go it would almost seem like going against Bilbo’s wishes. But it would not be, and of that Bilbo had made quite sure: he was determined that Kili should go and do something by himself, and equally determined that he should not be forced or ordered to do so. Admittedly, his scheme still had some element of conniving in it, but Bilbo had been thinking about it for some days. and had come to the conclusion that it was the only way that would at least leave some semblance of free will to Kili.

“Off you go, then,” he said, ruthlessly squashing down his feelings of guilt as Kili began to look mildly distressed. “Make sure you’re back by lunch.” And he went to the front door and opened it. “Come along.”

Kili stared and stared, but at last he took a few steps forward and took his coat from the peg by the door. He clutched it in one hand and turned to Bilbo.

“You want I go alone?” he asked.

“ _You_ want to go for a walk,” Bilbo insisted, ignoring a renewed pang of guilt at the rather lost look on the little dwarf’s face. “And very sensible an idea of yours it was, too. Walking alone is very enjoyable, my lad, I assure you.”

Kili, with great reluctance, took three steps out of the door, and then looked back at Bilbo. “Where I should go?” he asked.

“Oh, as to that,” Bilbo said, “wherever you like!” And he smiled and pointed down the path, and at last, when Kili only stood and stared at him forlornly, he gritted his teeth and gave a cheery wave.

“Well, enjoy yourself!” he said, and closed the door.

He leaned against it, fighting the urge to open it again and tell Kili that of course he did not need to go for a walk if he did not want to. Indeed, he was not only contravening the rules of politeness -- for it was certainly not the done thing to shoo a guest out of your house and close the door in his face -- but also those of his soft heart, which desired nothing more than to have his friends comfortable and happy and never made to do anything unpleasant. 

“Well, it will be for the best in the long run,” he told himself as he leaned there against the door, wondering if Kili was still standing on the other side. “It has to happen eventually, and it might as well be today. And he is a very sensible dwarf and will certainly not get into any trouble in the Shire.”

And he decided that he would spend the next hour cleaning some of the rooms deep in the hobbit hole, and stay well away from the door and the windows. But somehow, when he was on his way to collect a broom, he found himself hiding by the kitchen window, peering out through the lacy curtains. Kili, he saw, had moved several steps further away from the door, and had even passed through the little gate. But now he stood on the path and turned his head left and right, and seemed at a loss for what to do next. 

“It is for him to decide,” Bilbo said to himself. “He must learn to decide for himself, and that’s all there is to it!”

And he hurried away and forced himself not to look back.

\----

Fili returned perhaps half an hour later. Bilbo, who was up to his elbows in cobwebs in one of the root cellars, heard the door slam shut, and then Fili’s voice calling his name, and he jumped to his feet and hurried up the passageway to the upper rooms, for he certainly did not wish Fili to discover his brother’s absence and fly into a panic. But in fact, he need not have worried, for when he arrived at the front door he found Fili standing in the hall with a look of confusion and some degree of anger on his face, and Kili beside him, hair over his face and elbow held tightly in his brother’s hand.

“I found him wandering around on his own outside,” Fili said, without so much as a _hello_. “I cannot get a word of sense out of him. He said he had to stay outside until lunch, but he does not seem to be able to tell me why.”

“Ah,” Bilbo said, suddenly realising that there were aspects of his scheme that perhaps he had not fully thought through. “Yes, well, that is not quite right. He wanted to go for a walk, and I did not want to go, so I told him to go on his own.”

Fili stared at him in incredulous silence, and Bilbo began to rather kick himself for not sharing his ideas with the young dwarf when he first began to invent them. 

“You let him go on his own?” Fili said finally, sounding as if he could not decide whether to be furious or simply astounded.

“And why not?” Bilbo asked, deciding not to mention that it was less that he had _let_ Kili go and more that he had _made_ him go. “He is a grown dwarf, if he wishes to go for a walk on his own, why should he not?”

“Because he is Kili!” Fili cried. “He cannot walk around on his own! Anything might happen to him!”

Kili shifted ever so slightly beside his brother, and Bilbo decided that this conversation was most certainly doing more harm than good. 

“Why don’t we let your brother sit down,” he said, trying to sound conciliatory, “and then you and I can have a talk.” He stared at Fili meaningfully, and then indicated Kili with a quick jerk of his head and a raise of his eyebrows. 

Fili scowled at him, but of course he had no desire to cause his brother any further distress, and so he towed him through to the living room and deposited him in his chair.

“Don’t move,” he said to him, and Bilbo’s heart sank, for it was quite the opposite of his hopes to have Kili being ordered around by his brother. Fili turned and stalked past Bilbo out into the hall, and as Bilbo hurried along behind, he saw to his astonishment that Fili was locking the front door and slipping the key into his pocket. 

“Well, I never,” Bilbo muttered to himself, but he followed Fili into one of the rooms that was furthest away from the living room. By this time, it was clear that Fili was working himself into a towering rage, but Bilbo was feeling rather wrathful himself, and was not at all in the mood to be scolded, so that when Fili rounded on him he drew himself up and faced him squarely.

“How--” Fili started, but Bilbo was not about to let him get the first words in.

“Now, look here, master dwarf,” he said, “your brother was perfectly all right outside on his own, and what you have just done has made it so that he will be even less inclined to be his own dwarf from now on, I shouldn’t wonder. And locking the door! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Fili stared at him in astonishment. “ _I_ should be ashamed?” he said. “Kili cannot go wandering by himself -- he is not well and he cannot look after himself, as you know perfectly well! You were supposed to be looking after him, and instead you let him wander off? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that he is not at all unwell, and that he is perfectly capable of looking after himself, if only we would let him,” Bilbo said. “I was thinking that perhaps one day it would be nice to see him come and go as he pleases, just as you do. But I see you would rather keep him prisoner!”

A look of fury came over Fili’s face at this. “Watch your tongue, master hobbit,” he growled, but Bilbo did not fall back.

“Well, and what else would you call it, when you lock the door and take the key so that he cannot get out?” he cried. “Perhaps you would prefer to chain him up next time you go out, just in case?”

It was a terrible thing to say, and Bilbo knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. Yet he could not call them back, but could only stutter as Fili’s eyes widened and flashed with rage. “Oh, I am sorry, I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to -- but you must understand, my dear Fili, he can never truly get better if he does not learn to do things for himself.”

“Things, aye!” Fili cried. “He cooks, does he not? And he comes running with me, and plays with Esme.”

“Yes, when we tell him to,” Bilbo replied. “He comes running when you ask him to come, and he plays when Esme demands it, and he cooks when I suggest it. But he does not do anything _himself_ , master dwarf, and he never has, as long as I have known him. Surely he had a mind of his own before the orcs? He did not simply do everything you told him to then, I am quite sure.”

“He--” Fili started, and then stopped, suddenly looking stricken. He passed a hand over his face and closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them, the anger had ebbed away, replaced by sorrow. “Yes,” he said, in a much quieter voice. “He had a mind of his own. Too much so, most of the time.”

Bilbo sighed and reached tentatively forward to pat his friend’s arm. “And he will again,” he said. “But not if we don’t push him. We have tried and tried to convince him to make his own decisions, have we not? But he never does unless forced into it. I thought -- I thought if he was on his own, if he couldn’t look to us to choose for him, he would have to do it for himself, even if it is only choosing whether to turn left or right at the fork in the path.”

Fili frowned. “Then -- it was you who made him go out alone?” he said. “He did not simply take it into his head to wander off?” 

Bilbo almost laughed at this, for the idea of Kili taking it into his head to do anything was quite ridiculous, and yet exactly what Bilbo wished him to do. “Yes, I told him to, in a way,” he said. “Indeed, I almost had to push him out of the door with my own hands.” He braced himself for more anger, but to his surprise, Fili only looked relieved.

“Then if we do not push him, he will not do it again?” he asked.

“I should think not,” Bilbo replied, and Fili nodded. 

“Good,” he said, and now Bilbo understood the look of relief, and yet rather wished there had been more anger instead, for it seemed to him that Fili had not been listening at all to what he had been saying.

“It is not good at all,” he said. “Unless you mean to tell me that you are content with your brother remaining forever dependent on us to tell him what to do at every moment, and never learning to follow his own heart and mind, or yet even to recognise that he has them?”

Fili stared at him, and for just a moment, Bilbo though that he would reply that he was indeed content with that. But at last, he shook his head.

“He is not ready,” he said. “You saw how upset he was.”

“He will be upset if he has to learn this today, or next week, or in ten years,” Bilbo said. “It will always be painful and difficult. But surely it is better to do it sooner rather than later? And certainly better to do it here, in the Shire, where no harm can come to him.”

Fili’s jaw tightened. “He is not ready,” he insisted, although he sounded less sure of himself than he had before. Bilbo sighed and patted his arm.

“Are you sure it is Kili who is not ready?” he asked.

\----

Kili became sullen and withdrawn after his aborted walk, and although Bilbo did his best to improve matters with the liberal application of cake and cheerful chatter, still there came no break in the weather, until at last, on the following day Bilbo sat down by him and patted his knee.

“Are you angry with me, my lad?” he asked.

Kili frowned and shook his head. “Why angry?” he said. 

“Because I made you go outside on your own,” Bilbo replied. “I do think you will enjoy it, if you only practice until you get used to it.”

“I not angry,” Kili said, and then glanced at the door to the hallway. “Fili angry,” he said, rather quietly. And it was certainly true, nor had Fili made the least attempt to hide it, but had spent the last little while scowling and closing doors more forcefully than was strictly necessary.

“But he is not angry with you,” Bilbo said quickly, and he was about to embark on his (now rather well-practised) explanation of this when Kili shook his head again.

“No,” he said. “He is angry with you.” And he looked, for a moment, so utterly miserable that Bilbo sat back in his chair in astonishment. 

“Well -- yes, he is not entirely happy with me,” he admitted. “But that should not make you so unhappy. Neither of us are angry with you, after all.”

“You wanted I go walk,” Kili said. “Fili not wanted this.” He stared at Bilbo with a troubled frown, and Bilbo began to understand -- at least a little -- what it was that was causing him such distress. 

“And you do not know which of us to agree with, is that right?” he asked. Kili did not answer, but he looked away, and Bilbo felt sure he had the right of it. “Ah, Kili,” he said, “you do not have to agree with either of us, if you do not want. Have I not told you time and again that it is what you want that is important?”

Kili whispered something that Bilbo could not hear, and Bilbo leaned closer and tapped his knee.

“Speak up,” he said. “What was that?”

“I not want go walk alone,” Kili whispered, and Bilbo suddenly realised that he had talked himself into a trap.

“Hm, well,” he said, “that is different, you see. There are some things you must do, whether you wish to or not, because it is good for you. Like washing vegetables before you eat them.”

He was rather pleased with himself for this analogy, and decided to ignore the part of his mind that pointed out that he was doing just what he had determined he would not do when he had invented his scheme. But the scheme had long gone awry, and if he was to salvage it at all, well, perhaps he would have to alter it a little.

Kili frowned. “I not understand why wash vegetables,” he said. 

Bilbo sighed and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. At least, he reflected, Kili seemed to be a little less anxious about Fili’s mood now. Perhaps distracting him was a better way forward than trying to explain, at least for the time being -- for he had no illusions that Fili would allow him to send Kili out alone again in the next little while. 

“Well,” he said, “as I have told you before, it is because dirt tastes most unappealing, and can make you ill, besides--”

\----

In the end, it took almost a week -- and a great deal of sulking -- before Fili came to Bilbo one quiet morning and said, “Perhaps you were right.”

Bilbo, in the middle of pouring himself a cup of tea, looked up in surprise. “About what?” he asked. But a moment later he understood, and he straightened and set down the teapot. “Oh,” he said, “then you agree that we must take steps to help your brother learn?”

Fili cast a troubled glance towards the living room. “I do not like the thought of him going out alone,” he said. “I do not -- I do not like the thought of him alone at all.” But now he turned back to Bilbo, and although there was an unhappy cast to his face, still, there was determination there, too. “But if it is the only way -- if it is the only way to free him from the chains those foul creatures put upon his mind -- then better it should be here, where there can be little danger to him.”

Bilbo breathed out a great breath, and felt rather light, although he had not been aware that anything was weighing upon him. “I am glad,” he said. “And I hope you are not still angry with me.”

“I hope you are not angry with me,” Fili responded. 

Bilbo chuckled at this. “Well, if I flew into a rage every time a dwarf played the fool, I should have little time to do anything else!” he said. “Come, then. When shall we start?”

And start they did, though not until the next day, for it seemed Fili still needed a little time to accustom himself to the idea. So it was that, the following morning, after breakfast, Bilbo nodded at Fili and then rose to his feet, going to Kili’s chair and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Now, my lad,” he said, “do you remember what I told you about going for a walk by yourself? About how it is something difficult that nonetheless must be done?” 

Kili looked up at him, and then shot Fili a worried glance. Fili, too, rose from his chair and stood, rather stiffly it was true, but managing to betray little of the anxiety he no doubt felt. “I agree with the hobbit, my brother,” he murmured. “You should go for a walk for a little while.” And if he placed too much emphasis on the word _little_ , well, perhaps Kili did not notice.

Kili made no move to stand up, despite this reassurance from his brother. He seemed, if anything, even more unsure of himself than he had the first time Bilbo had told him he should go out, and Bilbo was considering various avenues of persuasion when Fili simply took two steps across the room and took his brother by the arm, gently pulling him out of the chair and pushing him towards the front door. Kili stumbled a little, then righted himself, and although Bilbo made silent inward protest at this action of Fili’s, which of course made it all too obvious that Kili’s own desires were irrelevant to the situation, yet Kili himself seemed a great deal more comfortable with being pushed than he had with being asked, and took his coat from the peg without further protest.

“Good,” Fili said, opening the door. “But you will -- you will be careful, won’t you, my brother? You will not go near the river, or talk to anyone you do not know?”

Kili only stared at him, his eyes wide. Bilbo almost laughed at the idea of Kili voluntarily going anywhere near the river, but he did not, for both brothers seemed under a great deal of strain. At last, Kili spoke.

“Where I should go?” he whispered. 

“It is just as I told you,” Bilbo said firmly, stepping forward and laying a hand on Fili’s arm. “Wherever you like.” He pointed at Kili. “You should go where _you_ want to go.”

Kili’s mouth turned down at the corners, and Bilbo felt Fili’s arm tense under his hand. He knew that if there was any more delay, Fili would most likely give in and tell Kili to come back inside -- he knew this because he was on the verge of doing so himself, looking at the poor little dwarf’s miserable expression -- and so he took another step forward and gave Kili a tiny push. 

Tiny it might have been, but it was enough to send the little dwarf across the threshold, and Bilbo, without thinking further about it, took the door from Fili’s hand and shut it firmly. “There,” he said, and turned to look at his friend. Fili looked almost as unhappy as Kili, and Bilbo sighed and took him by the arm. “Now, I think it’s time for some tea,” he said.

\----

Tea, while certainly an improvement over no tea, was not quite the panacea Bilbo had been hoping for. Fili sat with his hands wrapped around his cup, his shoulders hunched and tense, and paid little attention to Bilbo’s attempts at conversation, seemingly focussing all of his mind on listening for Kili’s returning footsteps. 

“We should have told him when to come back,” he said, apparently in answer to a remark Bilbo had made about the likelihood of frost in the coming days. “Who knows how long he will stay out?”

“I doubt very much he will be gone for long,” Bilbo replied. “Was he on his way home when you found him last time?”

“No,” Fili replied, “he was facing away from Bag End. But he can only have been gone a few moments last time, surely?” 

“Oh, no,” Bilbo said, “he was out for half an hour or more.”

Fili frowned at this, and Bilbo sat up a little straighter. “What is that face for, master dwarf?” he asked.

“He was barely out of sight of the door,” Fili said. “Only a few steps away. Surely it cannot have taken him half an hour to travel such a short distance?”

Bilbo sighed, thinking about how he had watched Kili standing beyond the gate, seemingly at a loss. “Well, perhaps he will manage a few more steps this time,” he said.

At this moment, there came a loud knock at the door, and Bilbo -- who was not expecting visitors -- leapt to his feet and went to answer it. When he did so, he found on the other side the stout figure of Sigismond Took, brother to Adalgrim and uncle to little Esmeralda and all her brothers and sisters (and, of course, Bilbo’s cousin, although they were not particularly close), and beside him -- to Bilbo’s surprise and annoyance -- stood Kili, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Good morning, Cousin Bilbo,” Sigismond said with a bow. “I’ve found a dwarf that I think belongs to you.”

“So I see,” Bilbo said, doing his best to sound polite. “But why have you brought him back here?”

“Oh, well, I found him wandering on the hillside,” Sigismond said, “and I’ve heard as how he’s--” Here he paused and glanced at Kili, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “--a bit touched, so I guessed he must have wandered off when you weren’t looking.” He leaned back again, smiling jovially. “Maybe you should keep the gate locked.” He frowned over at Kili, then at the gate. “Though he’s tall enough he could probably just hop over it, if he’d a mind.” Here he shook his head, as if at a loss to understand why any creature should need to grow so tall as a dwarf, and turned to Kili. “You shouldn’t go stepping over gates, you know,” he said, speaking at twice the volume and half the speed he had used to address Bilbo.

“Yes, well, much obliged, I’m sure,” Bilbo said hastily, and he took hold of Kili’s arm and steered him inside. “I would ask you in, of course, but--” he thought frantically, trying to invent an excuse, but Sigismond only waved a hand.

“Oh, I’m on my way over to see my brother, anyway,” he said. “I only stopped by to make sure you got your dwarf back before anyone started to worry about him. I know how dear Begonia frets when Esme is late back from playing, after all.”

“Hm,” Bilbo said. “Yes, but Esme is six years old.” This he said in a tone that was rather more short than was polite, but if Sigismond noticed this, he did not comment on it. 

“Seven next week, if I’m not mistaken,” he said cheerfully. “Good morning, then!” And he strode off down the path, whistling a jaunty tune. 

Bilbo sighed and turned to Kili. “Did you have a nice walk?” he asked, feeling rather deflated.

Kili glanced quickly up at him, then back at the floor. “Hobbit talk very loud,” he muttered. 

“Some hobbits are rather stupid,” Bilbo said, a little unfairly, it must be said. “Would you like to go out again?”

But Kili pulled such a terrible face at this, and the likelihood of the same thing happening again was so high, that Bilbo had not the heart to force him outside again. And so he took him through to the living room, and grumbled to himself all afternoon about well-meaning hobbits and their foolish interference, and ignored the fact that Fili seemed far less irritated than he was by Kili’s swift return.

\----

By the next day, however, Bilbo had devised a new plan. It was market day in Hobbiton, and Bilbo set off soon after elevenses with his basket on his arm. In fact, there was very little he needed to buy, and so he wandered aimlessly up and down the little rows of stalls until he spotted a hobbit who was ideal for his purposes. 

“My dear Jessamine!” he cried, hurrying up to her. “And how are you this fine morning?”

Jessamine Bolger looked very pleased to see him -- as well she might, for Bilbo was not unaware that, what with his sudden disappearance and equally sudden return, not to mention his strange visitors, he was very much still the richest source of gossip in Hobbiton, if not all the Shire. “Most well, thank you, Bilbo,” she said. “And how are you? And your dwarves?”

“Very well, very well indeed,” Bilbo said, and then raised his voice a little. “In fact, Kili likes it here very much.” 

“Does he, indeed?” Jessamine said. “I suppose it is a great improvement on wherever it is that he comes from.”

“Hm,” Bilbo said, doing his best to sound polite. “Well, in any case, he has decided he wants to explore.”

“Oh yes, I heard that Sigismond Took found him wandering alone yesterday,” Jessamine said, laying a hand on his arm with an expression of sympathy. “It must be very difficult for you, Cousin Bilbo, to have to look after someone with his affliction. Is it true that he spent many years living with beasts in the wilderness? I wonder that he survived with any of his wits at all!”

Bilbo gritted his teeth. “As it happens, he is rather clever,” he said. “But in any case, my dear Jessamine, I do think it would be good for him to see Hobbiton a little more. So that we can show him what a proper, civilised place looks like, you see.”

“Oh, yes, what a marvellous idea!” Jessamine cried. “And then when he goes back to his dwarvish friends, he can explain to them what it is to live somewhere safe and comfortable, and maybe they will be able to improve their lives a little.”

“Indeed,” Bilbo coughed. “What an excellent idea of yours, to have him wander round on his own a little. You are always so inventive, my dear cousin.”

Jessamine looked rather surprised by this, and then gave a pleased smile. “I do have good ideas, I must admit,” she said, in a tone that was probably supposed to be confidential, but which nonetheless must have been audible from ten paces away. “Herugar is always saying so.”

“I’m sure he is,” Bilbo replied. “Well, I will be sure to follow your instructions! Only we must see to it that all the hobbits know, so that no-one tries to take him home before he is ready.”

“Oh, indeed!” Jessamine said, nodding solemnly. “That would not do at all! And you know, my dear cousin, I am likely to visit a great many hobbits before the day is out, and I can explain it all to them, if you like. I know you are not a great one for invitations, yourself. And it would certainly be easier for me to explain it, since it was my idea, you know.”

“It certainly would,” Bilbo said. “I am so pleased we have had this little chat, my dear Jessamine. I confess I was quite at a loss before we spoke.”

“You know I am always glad to help, Cousin Bilbo,” Jessamine replied with a magnanimous smile. “Now, I must be off -- I think I see Lily Bracegirdle over yonder.” And she kissed Bilbo soundly and hurried away. 

Bilbo watched her go and then smiled to himself. “Well, that should do it,” he murmured, and then bought a bunch of carrots for appearance’s sake, and made his way home.

\----

Having made these arrangements for the future success of his scheme, Bilbo made his third attempt the very next afternoon, since the weather, if no longer fine, was at least not actively unpleasant. He sent Kili off in much the same way he had on the previous two occasions -- though this time the little dwarf did not ask where he should go, but only followed Bilbo with reluctant steps to the front door, and did not speak, though his expression was mournful indeed. When he had gone -- or at least, when the door was closed -- Bilbo sent Fili to chop wood in the cellar, and set himself to cleaning the kitchen, and resisted looking out of the window. And this time, half an hour passed, and then an hour, and no-one brought Kili back to the hobbit hole. Fili returned, bathed in sweat, having apparently split every log in the cellar, and sat silently at the kitchen table, and, once he could find nothing else to clean, Bilbo joined him, and tried to think of something to talk about, or some task that Fili could occupy himself with. Another hour passed, and when they were halfway through the third, Fili rose abruptly to his feet.

“It’s time for afternoon tea,” he said. “I’m going to find Kili.”

And, without any further explanation, he stumped off. 

Now, Bilbo found this all rather unexpected -- not least because Fili had never been the least troubled by Kili missing afternoon tea before, and had often kept him out all the way to dinnertime -- and he scrambled to catch up with Fili before he should disappear entirely. He found him standing outside the garden gate, frowning down the path.

“We should have watched him,” he said. “Which way did he go?” 

“Calm yourself, master dwarf,” Bilbo said, patting his arm. “I’m sure he is on his way home.” Indeed, he was rather surprised that Kili had stayed out so long, but he told himself he was very pleased, and refused to admit the nagging little fears that crept through his belly as he stood and looked down the hillside and saw no sign of his friend. “After all, no harm can have come to him in the Shire,” he added. “Why don’t you go left and I shall go right?”

And so that was what they did. Bilbo made his way down the hill, trying his best not to hurry -- for of course, there was no reason to be concerned -- and, in the distance, he heard Fili calling Kili’s name. When he was halfway to the river, he heard his own name being called by another voice, and turned to see who it was.

It was Asphodel Burrows, who was looking rather pleased with herself. “Good afternoon,” she said. “We have had your dwarf visiting today. What an odd creature he is!”

Bilbo found himself quite astonished by this, for to his knowledge Kili had never once exchanged words with Asphodel or any of her family before, nor even knew of her existence. Why, then, should he have gone visiting with them? It was most peculiar!

“How lovely,” he said (although in fact, he was not at all sure that such an experience would have been lovely for Kili). “Can I come and collect him? His brother wants him home for afternoon tea.”

“Oh! He is not there any more,” Asphodel said. “Lily Bracegirdle happened to be visiting as well, and she thought it would be quite marvellous for your Mr. Kili to go visiting at her house, seeing as how he wants to learn all about the Shire and she and hers know more about the Northfarthing than anyone else in Hobbiton.” Here Asphodel made an expression that, if she had not been such a well-brought-up hobbit, might have been said to be a roll of the eyes. “She took him off more than an hour ago. And we found him at Buttercup Gamgee’s house, so he is certainly getting a taste of hobbit hospitality!”

“How lovely,” said Bilbo again, although this time rather weakly. “Well, thank you for your kindness, and I’m sure Kili is very grateful. But I’m afraid I must be on my way -- afternoon tea, you know.” And he nodded his thanks and hurried off in the direction of the Bracegirdles’ hobbit hole, hoping that Kili would not be too overwhelmed when he arrived there. 

But when he did arrive, Lily Bracegirdle met him at the door and insisted he come in for tea before telling him that Kili was already gone. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Jessamine was visiting, and she seemed quite put out that Mr. Kili had come visiting with us before he came to her. _After all_ , she said, _it was my idea in the first place!_ As if she invented tea and cake, don’t you know. But your Mr. Kili is rather fond of cake, isn’t he? So nice to see a hobbit enjoy his food so much!” She paused here and frowned. “Or a dwarf, rather. How odd, to have a dwarf in my hobbit hole! But I was very surprised, my dear Bilbo, he did not seem savage in the least, though his table manners leave something to be desired.”

“I will tell him you said so,” said Bilbo hastily, and managed to excuse himself before another round of tea appeared. It seemed he had been rather too clever in his scheme to convince the hobbits to play their parts in Kili’s recovery -- and now the poor little dwarf was with the Bolgers, of all people! Goodness only knew how he was surviving, after so many hours of visiting.

So concerned was Bilbo that he all but ran to the Bolgers’ hobbit hole, and was quite out of breath when he knocked at the door. Jessamine beamed when she opened it and saw him on the other side. 

“My dear Bilbo!” she cried. “Just the hobbit! I have been telling your Mr. Kili all about the Shire, just as we agreed yesterday. Come in, come in!” And she stepped aside, and let Bilbo through to the hall, and thence to the living room.

There, perched on the edge of a chair, clutching a tea-cup and looking exhausted and very uneasy, was Kili. He looked up when Bilbo entered, and the expression of relief that crossed his face when he saw him was quite remarkable.

“Hello, my lad,” Bilbo said, crossing the room with three quick steps and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I hear you’ve been rather busy.” 

“You’ll stay for tea, of course?” Jessamine asked, bustling back into the room with a tray of biscuits and little cakes.

“Thank you, indeed,” Bilbo said, “but I’m afraid we must be getting back. Kili’s brother is expecting us, you know. He will worry if we don’t return.”

“Worry about what?” Jessamine asked, sounding rather surprised. “There can be nothing to worry about here in the Shire! Surely he will now that you have simply gone visiting. Why, every time I leave the house, I find myself gone for hours! Though perhaps it is not the same for you, cousin Bilbo, since you are not so -- fond of invitations.”

Bilbo managed to prevent himself from rolling his eyes, and took firm hold of Kili’s arm, bringing him to his feet. “Ah, well, you must remember, they have not been raised in the Shire, and so they are not used to how very safe it is,” he said. “It would not do at all for us to let him worry, even though of course there is nothing at all to worry about. Thank you so much for the invitation -- I do receive so few, not nearly so many as you, I am sure! -- and a good day to you, cousin.”

And with this, he hurried from the room before Jessamine could suggest sending someone to fetch Fili so that he could enjoy her hospitality as well. Indeed, so single-minded was he in his pursuit of escape that they were halfway back to Bag End before he thought to loosen his grip on Kili’s elbow.

“Now then, are you all right?” he asked, looking Kili over. The little dwarf was downcast and seemed slightly unsteady, and Bilbo wondered if he had been being passed from hobbit hole to hobbit hole for the entire time he had been gone (and decided he most probably had). Even after he let Kili go, Kili stood very close to him, and the sound of a child shouting in the distance caused him to start in a way that Bilbo did not like at all.

“Too many hobbits,” Bilbo decided. “And too much tea, no doubt. I am sure Jessamine did not think to ask if you liked it or not.”

Kili did not reply to this, and Bilbo sighed. “That was not exactly the sort of walk I had in mind,” he said. 

Kili did make some kind of response to this, but Bilbo could not hear it. “Speak up, my lad,” he said, inclining his ear to Kili’s mouth.

“Why I must go walk?” Kili said, only slightly louder than before.

“I have already told you why,” Bilbo said. “Because it is important for you to make your own choices.” 

“I not made own choices,” Kili said. “Hobbits made choices. It is better not go walk, you can make choices. Your choices are better.”

“I cannot make all your choices for you,” Bilbo said. “And neither can your brother, before you suggest it. It is just as I have told you: we don’t know what it is that you want. No-one knows, except you, which is why you are the only one who can choose.”

“Hobbits did know,” Kili said. “Why hobbits know, you not know?”

“What hobbits?” Bilbo asked. “The hobbits you met today?” Kili nodded, and Bilbo found himself frowning in confusion. “They did not know,” he said. “How could they have known what you want? They do not even know you!”

Kili began to look worried. “They said did know,” he said. “J-- Jez-- Jez--” He stuttered to a stop, and Bilbo hastened to help him.

“Jessamine,” he said. “Jessamine said she knew what you wanted?” 

Kili nodded quickly. “She did know,” he said. “She said this.” 

“What exactly did she say?” Bilbo asked, trying to imagine what might have led Kili to the conclusion that Jessamine Bolger, of all people, knew what was best for him.

Kili paused a moment, as if working to construct some thought in his mind. “She said _I am sure Mr. Kili_ \--” he stopped and frowned in concentration. “ _I am sure Mr. Kili like come visit me_ ,” he finished. “And then she say _I am sure you like some tea_.” He nodded at Bilbo. “She say sure. I am not sure, but she is sure. She know.”

“I see,” Bilbo said, suppressing a sigh at the appearance of yet another linguistic trap. “Then let me ask you this: did you actually want to visit her and drink tea?”

This question left Kili looking quite confounded. He opened his mouth and closed it again, then frowned and dropped his gaze, apparently happy to look at anything except Bilbo himself. Bilbo waited a moment or two, but when it became clear that an answer to his question was not forthcoming, he patted Kili’s arm and started walking up the hill. Kili followed him, and they walked in silence until they reached the gate to Bag End. Here, as Bilbo paused to open it, Kili finally made his reply.

“She said sure,” he said. “Sure mean she know. It mean this, yes?”

“I’m afraid it is a little more complicated than that,” Bilbo said. “But even if it were not, you must realise that just because someone says they know something does not mean they are right. Especially when they say they know something about how you feel.” He pointed at Kili. “So, then, did you want the tea, or not?”

Kili stared at the ground. “No,” he said, after a long pause. “I not want tea. I not -- not like tea.”

“Precisely,” Bilbo said. “You do not like tea, and you did not want tea, and you know that but Jessamine does not. If you had been more used to making your own choices, then you would not have had to drink any tea at all. So, do you see why it is so important that you should learn?” 

Kili began to look rather sullen. “It is not bad, drink tea,” he said. “Not very bad. I can drink.” He gave Bilbo a quick, hopeful glance. “I drink tea, I not must go on walk?” he asked.

“Oh dear,” said Bilbo. “That is not the point at all!”

Kili’s hopeful expression faded, and Bilbo took pity on him, for he still looked quite worn out after all of his visiting. “Well, we will talk about it tomorrow,” he said. “Come on, then, let us find your brother before he tears his beard out with worry.”

And so that was what they did.


	2. Chapter 2

Fili was most relieved to have his brother returned to him, and, after hearing what had happened and observing Kili’s dark mood and increased anxiety in the aftermath, declared that, promising as Bilbo’s scheme had initially appeared, it was clear that it would have to be abandoned. Kili brightened rather on hearing this -- although he still remained rather nervous for the rest of the day, and had a most unpleasant nightmare that night -- but Bilbo, though he held his peace, privately remained convinced that Kili must be made to take some decisions of his own as soon as possible. So he bent his thoughts to inventing some new method by which this could be achieved, and after a while grew certain that his original idea was still the most likely to succeed, provided some modifications were made to it. He explained these modifications to Fili, and, after some arguing, Fili reluctantly agreed that this new plan should at least be attempted. And so, two days after Kili’s visit to the various living rooms of Hobbiton, Bilbo took him by the arm after breakfast and smiled at him.

“Time for a walk,” he said. 

This announcement -- short though it was -- led to a startling change in Kili’s demeanour. One moment he was watching Bilbo with a look of curiosity, the next, his head was dropping, his shoulders hunching, and his mouth turning down. In short, he looked entirely miserable.

“Hmph,” Bilbo said. “Well, I do not think it is as bad as all that! And your brother and I will go some of the way with you this time, so that you do not have to go visiting -- unless you want to, of course.”

This minor reprieve did not seem to have much effect on Kili’s mood, but Bilbo was quite determined, and he tugged at Kili’s arm until Kili stood and went to fetch his coat, looking rather like a forlorn little scarecrow. Fili gave him an uneasy glance, but Bilbo would not be moved. 

“Come on, then,” he said, in a cheerful voice that was perhaps a little too loud, and led the way out of the hobbit hole. 

They turned left out of the gate, and made their way along the hillside quickly and quietly, avoiding the path down towards the village and the river. They saw a few hobbits in the distance, but met no-one on the path, and after perhaps a ten minutes of brisk walking, they came to the edge of a little woodland that was far enough away from Hobbiton, and far enough from the main paths through the Shire, that it was rarely frequented by any but hobbitlings and the occasional adventurous Took. Here, Bilbo stopped and turned to Kili.

“Now, then,” he said, “now you can go for your walk in peace, and with no fear that you will have to go visiting. You do not have to stay out for very long, although you certainly may if you want to. But make sure you are back by lunchtime, or your brother will worry about you.”

Kili glanced at Fili in some surprise, but Fili did not deny this. He put a quick arm around Kili’s shoulders. “See,” he said, “there is the path we always walk along. It is safe, and you know it well.”

Bilbo found himself rather annoyed by this statement of Fili’s, for he saw Kili’s eyes go to the little track -- barely more than an impression in the thick leaf-litter -- and realised immediately that Kili would interpret Fili’s words as orders, or at least instructions. 

“Or you could go a different way, if you want,” he said hastily, though he knew in his heart that Kili was unlikely to do so. But it could not be helped now, and so Bilbo waited until Kili had taken a few steps along the path, and then took hold of Fili’s arm and pulled him firmly away, turning towards Bag End and carefully not looking back. 

\----

Kili came back before even half an hour had passed. Indeed, his walk was so abbreviated that Bilbo was not yet even looking for his return, and did not realise he had come back until he looked up from his book to find him standing silently just inside the living room. This rather startled Bilbo, and he jumped and let out a quiet _oh!_

Kili shifted uneasily. “Walk is finish,” he said. “I can come back?”

“Of course you can come back,” Bilbo said, pressing a hand to his chest to calm his fluttering heart. “Come in properly and sit down. Did you enjoy your walk?”

Kili went over to his chair and sat, still looking rather nervous. “Yes,” he said, but although there were many feelings that Bilbo might have read into this reply, enthusiasm was not one of them.

“I see,” said Bilbo. “Where did you go?”

“I go Fili path,” Kili said, after a moment’s thought. “Into woods. Then out. Go there, come back.”

“ _Went_ , not _go_ ,” Bilbo said, rather absent-mindedly, for most of his thoughts were occupied with wondering if Kili going along the path his brother had directed him to was much of an improvement over Kili not going anywhere at all. 

“Yes,” Kili replied. “I went Fili path. Went Fili’s path.”

“My path?” Fili asked, stepping into the room and smiling warmly at his brother. “Hello, you are back.”

Kili glanced up at him and nodded. “Short walk,” he said.

“Good,” Fili said, and sat down, putting a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “We can go for a longer one later.”

Kili seemed to cheer up a little at this, and not long afterwards Fili began teaching him some new words of _iglishmêk_. Bilbo watched them, and supposed he ought to be content that they were both doing so well, that they were alive and cheerful (for the most part) and becoming brothers again, more so every day. But still. 

But still.

\----

After this, Bilbo sent Kili out every day that the weather permitted -- accompanying him out of the village for the most part, for he had no desire to lose him once more to the lively visiting circle of Hobbiton -- and every day Kili dutifully went for his solitary walk, and came back far too quickly for Bilbo’s liking. Every day Bilbo asked him if he had enjoyed his walk, and every day he said _yes_ , but he never sounded any more convinced of it than he had on the first day, and whenever Bilbo asked him where he had been, it was always the same answer: he had been along Fili’s path, there and back again. Fili did not seem at all troubled by this behaviour, declaring that after all, he was walking out on his own, which was exactly what Bilbo had wanted, and if he went the same way every day, well, surely it was only because it was his favourite path. But Bilbo was not at all sure that this was the case, and when a week had passed and nothing had changed, he began to try to think of ways he could once more modify his scheme so that it would achieve the ends he had designed it for. 

But no such modification occurred, or at least, not for many days. For one evening, when Kili was helping Bilbo make supper, poaching eggs with great concentration, he suddenly turned to stare at him.

“Hobbit,” he said, “why I go walk alone?”

Bilbo frowned at him. “I have told you this before,” he said. “I have told you and told you. It is so you can learn to make your own choices. Surely you have not forgotten?”

He waited rather anxiously for Kili’s answer, for he had yet to learn everything about the holes that frequently appeared in Kili’s memory, but he had told him only a few days before, and he had thought -- hoped -- that his forgetfulness did not act so swiftly as all that.

“No,” Kili said. “I not forgot. But I not understand. I not make choose. I not choose go walk. You choose.”

Bilbo’s heart sank a little, for he had rather hoped that Kili would not notice the flaw in his scheme. “Well,” he said, “I suppose I do choose that you should go. But once you have gone, you choose which way to go, and what to do.”

“I go along Fili’s path,” Kili said, and then frowned. “I went. Or -- go?”

“Go,” said Bilbo. “Yes, you have always gone along Fili’s path. But if you wanted to go a different way, you could. You always choose to go along Fili’s path, but you could choose to go another way.”

Kili did not respond to this, but only frowned, and then concentrated on fishing the eggs out of the water. Indeed, he did not speak for some time, and Bilbo let him be, turning away to make the toast. In the end, it was not until after supper was eaten and the dishes all put away that Kili took up the conversation again.

“What other way?” he asked. 

By now, of course, Bilbo had forgotten the thread of the conversation -- for he had had a number of discussions with Fili in the meanwhile -- and it took him a moment or two to find it again. “Whatever way you choose,” he said, when he finally understood what Kili was asking. “That is the point, you see. You can go anywhere you like.”

Kili stared at him. “I not understand,” he said.

“Anywhere,” said Bilbo. “You understand _anywhere_?” When Kili nodded, he made a gesture, encompassing the whole kitchen, and therefore the whole world. “Anywhere you like,” he said. “The Shire is full of beautiful places and beautiful things. Would you not like to go and see some of them?”

Kili hesitated. “Beautiful?” he said. 

“Beautiful,” Bilbo agreed. “Beautiful is when something looks nice, or sounds nice, perhaps. But not just nice, my lad. It is when something is so marvellous that it steals your breath and gives you a pain here.” He touched Kili’s chest, over his heart. “A good pain,” he added. “That is what _beautiful_ means.”

Kili stared at him thoughtfully, and brushed his own fingers over the spot Bilbo had touched. “Good pain?” he said.

“Not like pain from punishment,” Bilbo said hastily, feeling momentarily concerned. But Kili did not seem at all discomfited.

“Good pain,” he muttered. “Yes, I know this. Like fiddle.”

“Exactly,” Bilbo agreed. “When Fili plays the fiddle, it is beautiful. But things can look beautiful as well as sounding beautiful, you see. And there are many places in the Shire that look quite beautiful.”

Kili watched him for a moment or two, and then looked away. He seemed deep in thought, and touched his fingers once again to his heart. But he did not speak further, and Bilbo did not press him.

\----

Bilbo had high hopes that his conversation with Kili would lead to some kind of change in his behaviour. And, indeed, it did -- though not in the direction that Bilbo desired. For the next day, Kili came back from his walk after barely twenty minutes had passed, looking pale and shaken, and immediately hunched himself into his armchair as if trying to become so small as to be invisible.

“Whatever is the matter?” Bilbo asked in alarm, and Fili, too, rose sharply from his seat by the fire and crossed the room to his brother’s chair in two strides, laying a hand on his shoulder and trying to brush his hair away from his face.

“Nothing is matter,” Kili whispered, and that was all the sense they could get out of him for the rest of the day, though both Bilbo and Fili tried everything they could think of to get him to explain what had happened. After an hour of this, Fili stormed out of the hobbit hole with a face like thunder, apparently to go and investigate the woods and determine what had so upset his brother. But he returned with nothing further to report -- the woods were empty and peaceful, and no-one he had spoken to in Hobbiton had seen Kili all day. 

And so the mystery remained. Kili was withdrawn and skittish all day, and slept barely at all in the night, so that when morning came he seemed oddly sunken and sallow. And when Bilbo rose after second breakfast, at the time he was accustomed to tell Kili to go for his walk, the little dwarf actually shrank away from him, and buried himself in his hair, as if he somehow hoped Bilbo would forget he was there at all. Now, Bilbo had managed to overcome all of his guilt at Kili’s unhappy reactions on previous occasions, but this time he found himself quite unable to do so, not least because he had not yet the first idea what had so unsettled Kili. What was more, Fili jumped to his feet, too, and shook his head at Bilbo, and Bilbo felt quite sure that, if he did try and shoo Kili out, he would be firmly opposed from that quarter. 

“Why don’t we all go for a walk?” he said instead. “I have been far too lazy lately.”

Fili frowned at Bilbo, but Bilbo knelt by Kili’s chair and peered up into his face -- what little he could see of it through his hair.

“How is that, my dear lad?” he said. “Would you like to come for a walk with your brother and me?”

For a moment, Kili only sat perfectly still. But then he shifted in his chair, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of his dark eyes staring down at him.

“You not make me alone?” he whispered.

Bilbo’s heart fairly broke at this question, and he was forced to sit quiet a moment and swallow down his disappointment and guilt, for it seemed to him that, whatever he had intended with his clever schemes, all he had achieved was to deeply distress his friend. He reached up and patted Kili’s knee. 

“No, we will not leave you alone,” he said. “We will all go together. But only if you are agreeable.” He glanced up at Fili. “Only if we are all agreeable.”

Fili was still frowning, but after a moment he came forward and put a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “If you would like to go out, I will certainly come with you, my brother,” he said. “But if you wish to stay here, I will stay here with you, too. I will not leave you alone. We will do whichever you want.”

This, though, seemed only to upset Kili further, and he shook his head violently and pulled his feet up into his chair, as if trying to make himself as small as possible. Fili cast Bilbo an alarmed look and dropped to the ground beside him, patting Kili franticly on the knee.

“No, it is not--” he said. “I did not mean -- I do not know what I said that was wrong. Please, brother. Do not hide from me.” 

Kili sat hunched and silent for a moment, but when Fili patted him again he raised his head just a little. 

“Not can choose,” he whispered. “You choose, not can.”

Well, this was an upset indeed to all of Bilbo’s plans and schemes! That Kili should not only be deeply upset, but that he should have regressed so that he could not even contemplate the idea of making a decision for himself without terror -- it was quite the opposite of everything that Bilbo had hoped for, and his heart sank into his hairy hobbit feet as he sat back on his heels.

“Now, Kili,” he said, stumbling over the words a little in his surprise and disappointment. “Surely you do not mean that? It is only a tiny little choice, and your brother and I will be with you either wa--”

“Bilbo!” Fili interrupted sharply, and the words died on Bilbo’s tongue when he saw the furious glare Fili was directed towards him. “We will not go out,” Fili declared, still glaring at Bilbo, but then he turned his attention towards Kili and stroked his arm soothingly. “We will not go out, my brother,” he said, in a much gentler tone. “The hobbit can do what he likes, but you and I will stay here until you feel better.”

Bilbo felt rather hurt to be referred to in this dismissive tone, but he told himself it was only that Fili was worried about his brother. Nonetheless, he felt suddenly unwelcome, and a strange feeling it was indeed to be having in his own hobbit hole. “Well,” he said, getting to his feet and dusting down his knees, “well, in that case I shall -- see about --” And he fled to the kitchen, where he busied himself washing a stack of dishes that were already clean and humming loudly in the hope that it might drown out the thoughts of how spectacularly his plan had failed, and how much he had managed to upset Kili into the bargain. This strategy had only the most limited success, even when Bilbo redoubled his dish-clattering and humming, so that at last he found himself flinging his dishcloth into the water and shaking his head.

“ _Drat_ it,” he muttered to himself.

“I can’t say I disagree,” came a voice behind him, and Bilbo started so hard he knocked a teacup from the draining board onto the floor, where it broke into three pieces. He spun to find Fili leaning in the doorway, regarding him without a smile and without apparently the least care for the state of Bilbo’s crockery.

“How long have you been there, master dwarf?” Bilbo asked, bending to collect the pieces of china that now decorated his kitchen floor. “Sneaking up on a person is quite rude, I’ll have you know.”

“I did no sneaking,” Fili replied. “It is hardly my fault if you are humming so loudly you cannot even hear a full-grown dwarf approach. Just think if it were orcs, you would be entirely helpless.”

“There are no orcs in the Shire!” Bilbo cried. “And I don’t see why I should have to be quiet in my own home for fear of losing my favourite teacup -- why, it is absurd to even suggest such a thing!”

“Perhaps if you thought less about teacups and more about--” Fili started, but then he stopped and put a hand over his eyes for a brief moment. When he lowered it, the anger that had started in his face was gone. “Why are we arguing?” he asked, sounding suddenly very tired.

Bilbo stared at him, and then shook his head, setting the pieces of the teacup down on the kitchen table and gesturing Fili to a chair. “You are angry with me because I pushed Kili too hard,” he said, sitting down himself. “I suppose that is why.” Saying it out loud did not make him feel any less guilty, but something of the tightness in his shoulders was relieved nonetheless -- for it is always easier to be honest with oneself, even if it is painful to do so.

Fili sighed. “I am not angry,” he said. “Or -- no more so with you than with myself. But we could not have known.” He shook his head, pressing his hands flat against the table. “I just -- wish I knew what had happened. Who he spoke to, or what he saw. I have not seen him so upset in months.”

“Perhaps he saw nothing but the shadows in his own mind,” Bilbo said. 

Fili did not look very happy at this answer. “Well, at any rate, he is no closer to making his own choices than he was before,” he said. “And we cannot send him out again.”

“No,” Bilbo said, though it was a rather painful thing to admit. “No, you are right, of course.”

He contemplated the wreckage of the teacup for a short time, then heaved a sigh and got to his feet. 

“Was it really your favourite cup?” Fili asked, sounding mildly contrite.

“Oh, that old thing,” Bilbo said. “I did not care for it at all, to be quite honest.” 

And he threw the remains of the cup away, and thought no more about it.

\----

Kili’s nervous mood lasted for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, and Fili’s surliness lasted almost as long, for although Kili sat perfectly still and did not flinch away from his touch, still he was tense indeed whenever Fili tried to put his arm around him. But for once, Fili was not the most strongly affected by his brother’s unhappiness, for while Kili tolerated Fili’s presence with only a tensing of his shoulders, he seemed to shrink every time Bilbo came near him, and although he answered when Bilbo spoke to him, yet it seemed to Bilbo that there was a spark of fear in his eyes every time Bilbo so much as opened his mouth. This was a new and highly unpleasant circumstance, and Bilbo did not have the first idea how to deal with it. At last, he became very close-mouthed, which was not at all natural for hobbits in general and for Bilbo Baggins in particular. But what else could he do, when it seemed that even the hint of speech from him caused his dear friend’s heart to quail? Ah, it was a dreary day indeed, and it was not until late in the afternoon that Kili finally seemed to come to himself a little more, and uncurled himself in his chair. Still, they all passed an uneasy night, and were careful indeed with each other the next day, though Kili, at least, seemed a lot less out of sorts. And of course there was no suggestion at all that they might go out, and no attempt to ask Kili to choose even what they might have for dinner.

The day after that was Esmeralda’s birthday, and naturally there was a party to celebrate. All the children of Hobbiton were invited, and not a few from Bywater and beyond into the bargain. Bilbo, Kili and Fili had been invited almost before the party had even been thought of, but now that it came to it, Bilbo was in two minds about whether it was a good idea to attend. Kili was not fond of large gatherings at the best of times, and given his strange behaviour over the last few days, Bilbo found himself greatly concerned that it could lead to disaster. But, after some discussion with Fili, it was decided that perhaps Esmeralda’s cheerful presence was exactly what was needed, and that both Bilbo and Fili would keep a close eye on Kili’s mood and be ready to take him home the moment he seemed to be growing unhappy. And so, on the day in question, the three of them crossed the river and made their way to Esmeralda’s snug little hobbit hole, with Bilbo explaining to Kili all about hobbit birthday customs and, most importantly, all about hobbit birthday cake.

The garden was filled with shrieking hobbitlings when they arrived, but soon after this it began to rain, and Begonia shooed them all inside. A fierce debate then ensued regarding what inside-game should be played, which was ultimately resolved in favour of hide-and-seek. Esmeralda took little part in these arguments -- for although she was perfectly talkative and even often loud in the presence of adults, around large groups of other children she tended to be quiet and rather on the outskirts -- but when the bossiest of the group, a little boy of perhaps nine whose name Bilbo could not for the life of him remember, turned to Kili, things became rather different.

“Your dwarf will play with us, won’t he, Esme?” he asked. “You’re always saying how he likes playing with you.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to intervene, but it seemed there was no need, for Esmeralda was giving the little hobbit lad a rather withering stare.

“Mr. Kili doesn’t play hiding games,” she said, as if it was perfectly obvious just by looking at him that such games were out of the question. 

The little lad shrugged and ran off to hide, and Esmeralda climbed up into Kili’s lap and whispered something in his ear. Then she kissed him soundly on the cheek, giggled, and jumped to the floor to join in the game.

“What did she say, my brother?” Fili asked, looking rather amused.

Kili frowned. “She said she not like other little hobbit,” he said. “She said I must not talk him.”

“Well, I shouldn’t listen to everything Esmeralda says,” Bilbo said. “She is only a very little hobbit, after all.”

Kili looked puzzled, but not at all distressed, and so Bilbo and Fili settled down to enjoy the rest of the party. Although Kili was not directly involved in the game of hide-and-seek, nonetheless, Esmeralda came and crawled back into his lap as soon as she was found, and, when she was the seeker, she made detailed reports on the progress of the game every few minutes, until at last she came over with a most discontented look on her face.

“I can’t find Fredo,” she declared. “I’ve looked _everywhere_.” And she folded her arms and looked most put out.

“You not looked everywhere,” Kili replied, quite reasonably. “If you looked everywhere, you found her.”

“Fredo’s a him, not a her,” Esmeralda said. “But I’ve looked _everywhere_ , Mr. Kili! Will you help me look?”

“Now, my dear,” Bilbo said quickly. “You know Mr. Kili doesn’t play hiding games.”

Esmeralda pouted for a moment, then hugged Kili’s knee and stared up at him. “I can’t think of anywhere else!” she said.

Kili frowned, but it was a thoughtful frown. “How many rooms in house?” he asked.

“It’s not a house, it’s a hobbit hole,” Esmeralda said.

“Hobbitole, yes,” Kili said. “How many rooms?”

Esmeralda counted on her fingers for a moment. “Seven,” she decided at last. “Living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, mama and papa’s room, boys’ room, and girls’ room.” She held up seven fingers. “Seven! And I’ve looked in all of them already!”

“You are sure?” Kili asked. “No more rooms? Hobbit’s house has many rooms, small rooms.” By _Hobbit’s house_ he meant Bag End, of course, but no doubt Esmeralda took him to mean the homes of hobbits in general, and indeed, this was true of many hobbit holes, although of Bag End perhaps even more than most.

Esmeralda frowned. “We-ell,” she said, “there’s the pantry, I suppose. And the cellar. And the laundry room, but I saw a spider in there once. And the room where mama keeps the winter things, but nobody ever goes in there.”

“Yes, this,” Kili said. “Room, nobody go in room, is best for hide. Small room, it is good. Small hobbits go in small places. You look here, look for dark place, place too small for--” And here he suddenly stopped, mouth open, and then shook his head. “For big -- for big --” he mumbled, and then ducked his head, causing Fili to put a hand on his arm.

“Never mind, my brother,” he murmured. “She is not even listening.” For Esmeralda had already run off to follow Kili’s instructions, surely never once considering why he might be so confident on the subject of hiding places and their relative quality. And indeed, only a few moments later she came running back, having now found Fredo and bursting with pride and triumph.

“You did it!” she said to Kili. “How did you know he would be there? You’re very good at hide and seek, Mr. Kili!” And she tugged at Kili’s sleeve until he got down onto the floor with her, where she proceeded to show him some small game that involved colourful beads and a strange network or maze made out of dried straw. Kili seemed happy enough to listen, and Esmeralda refused all invitations to continue playing hide and seek, declaring that she was playing with Mr. Kili and they should all just go off and entertain themselves, or words to that effect. Bilbo smiled to see Kili so calm, despite the presence of so many loud little hobbitlings, and shortly thereafter he allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation with Begonia, who seemed quite relieved that there were adult guests at the party besides herself and Adalgrim. So it was that Bilbo rather lost track of what Kili was doing until he became aware that the conversation in that part of the room had become oddly loud and high-pitched. He glanced over to see Kili still seated on the floor, looking troubled, and Esmeralda standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, talking to the same young lad who had asked Kili to play hide and seek before.

“I’ll teach you the rules, it’s not hard,” the little lad was saying, apparently to Kili.

“It’s not because he doesn’t know the rules,” Esmeralda replied, rather tartly. “He’s played before, haven’t you, Mr. Kili? He’s very good, better than _you_.”

“He’s not!” the hobbit lad said, looking outraged. “I’m the best! Everyone says so! I don’t believe he’s played before, you’re just pretending because he doesn’t know the rules.”

“Mr. Kili’s the best at everything,” Esmeralda declared. “Tell him you’ve played before, Mr. Kili! He’s saying you haven’t, tell him you have!”

She turned beseeching eyes on Kili, clearly feeling that this was some important point of pride. Kili hunched his shoulders and nodded. 

“I played before,” he said quietly, not looking the little lad in the eye. “Many times.”

“Well, then, why won’t you play now?” the lad asked, as if there could be no possible other reason.

Kili opened and closed his mouth, then shook his head. “It is not nice game,” he muttered. 

“But--” the little lad started, and then suddenly Fili was there, striding into the middle of them and towering over the boy.

“That’s enough bothering my brother,” he said, and though his tone was not unkind, still the boy looked suddenly rather terrified. “If he does not want to play, it is none of your concern why.” He shot a mildly irritated glance at Bilbo -- who realised, belatedly, that he should probably have called a halt to the conversation rather earlier -- and then took Kili by the arm and raised him to his feet, restoring him to his chair and out of the realm of the children. There was a brief moment of tense silence, and then Begonia stood and clapped her hands. 

“Presents!” she cried.

The cry was taken up from all corners of the hobbit hole, and suddenly the room was full of eager-looking hobbitlings, with Esmeralda standing at the centre of all. Begonia brought in a pile of parcels, and the central ritual of hobbit birthdays began in earnest. Being, as she was, only seven years old, Esmeralda had not had the chance to accumulate a great stock of mathoms to give away as older hobbits do, so most of the presents she gave were things she had made herself (with the help of her parents) -- there were many little bags of tiny cakes or biscuits, oddly-shaped teacups from an attempt at pottery-shaping that apparently had not gone marvellously well (and Bilbo had no doubt these would be quickly added to the Hobbiton circulating stock of mathoms, since they did not look like they would serve their intended purpose very successfully), and, once Esmeralda reached her own brothers and sisters, some more personal presents, such as hair decorations made of feathers and bright buttons. Partway through the proceedings, Kili turned to Bilbo with a small frown.

“What is happen?” he whispered.

“It’s presents, Mr. Kili,” Begonia put in. “Don’t dwarves give away presents on their birthdays?”

Kili’s frown deepened as he considered this question, and Bilbo watched closely to see what answer he would give, and wondered if he remembered his own birthday, which had passed while they were travelling and had thus been a very quiet affair. Begonia waited expectantly, but without pushing, and at last Kili shook his head.

“Dwarfs -- presents -- dwarfs not give, dwarfs, dwarfs -- have? Dwarfs have presents?” 

“ _Get_ ,” Fili murmured, and Kili threw him a grateful glance.

“Yes, get,” he said. “Dwarfs not give, dwarfs get. At birthday.”

“Good heavens, how peculiar,” Begonia said, but she smiled fondly at Kili as she said it. “Well, hobbits give presents on their birthdays, and that is what is happening now. And I think--” and now she turned to the hobbitlings and saw that the last of the Took children had received their gift “--I think you will soon see how nice that is.”

And now Esmeralda turned to Bilbo and proffered up an oddly-shaped parcel about six inches tall. “Mr. Bilbo!” she said, eyes shining with the joy of giving. 

“Oh, now, you certainly did not need to get me anything!” Bilbo cried -- for it was not generally custom for children to give presents to the adults who attended their parties. “What a generous little hobbitling you are.” And he unwrapped the parcel to find inside a piece of wood that was shaped rather like a mushroom.

“I found it in the woods!” Esmeralda said. “I though you would like it.”

“Ah, I like it indeed,” Bilbo said. “How peculiar! Trees really are marvellous things.” And he held the odd little mushroom up for everyone to admire, then set it on his lap and waited to see what would happen next.

“Mr. Fili,” said Esmeralda now, holding out a much smaller parcel. Fili took it with a nod and opened it carefully. Inside was a child’s bracelet made of simple, uncarved wooden beads, far too small to fit around the wrist of a grown hobbit, let alone a dwarf. 

“Thank you, Esmeralda,” Fili said gravely, holding the bracelet up for everyone to see. But he shot Bilbo a brief, confused look, as if asking if there was something about hobbit gifts he had misunderstood.

“It’s for your hair,” Esmeralda informed him, and when Fili turned to look at her, she nodded. “You can cut the beads off and put them in your hair.”

Fili’s face broke into a broad smile. “I can, at that,” he said. “And I shall be proud to wear them.” He tucked the little bracelet into his pocket and turned expectantly -- as did all the onlookers -- to see what Esmeralda would give to Kili. But she suddenly seemed uncharacteristically shy, and stuck her fingers into her mouth as she stared up at him. Kili stared back, and seemed not to realise that he ought to have a present next, for he suddenly reached out and patted her on the head.

“It is good -- it is _kind_ ,” he said. “Give many presents. Kind Esmalda.”

“Esme, don’t you have something else to give?” Begonia asked, and this seemed to be the impetus Esmeralda needed, for she reached down and picked up a flat parcel wrapped in the brightest wrappings that had yet been seen and tied with a pretty ribbon. She held it out to Kili without a word, and when he took it, she immediately started chewing on her fingers again. 

“It is present for me?” Kili asked, and when Esmeralda did not reply, he looked at Fili.

“Yes, my brother,” Fili said. “It is for you.”

Kili stared down at the parcel in his lap, brushing his fingertips against the ribbon. “Thank you Esmalda,” he said. “It is nice.” 

Fili leaned over and whispered something in Kili’s ear, and Kili frowned and glanced at him. When Fili nodded and pointed at the parcel, Kili looked mildly upset, but a moment later he began -- very carefully -- to untie the ribbon. The process of unwrapping the parcel was nothing at all like the eager glee with which the hobbitlings had torn into their own presents: Kili took the utmost care, to the point where Bilbo began to feel rather frustrated and like he might snatch the parcel out of Kili’s hands and finish the unwrapping himself. But at last, the coverings opened up, and the contents were revealed.

It was a picture. Not a detailed, careful likeness as Ori’s pictures were, but a childish drawing, with shaky lines and malformed figures. Still, it was clear that a great deal of work had gone into it. In the centre of the picture stood two figures holding hands. One was enormously tall and swathed in dark scribblings that Bilbo surmised were supposed to be hair. The other was much smaller, wearing a triangle that Bilbo supposed was a dress, and holding a large sword in one hand. In the background were some much smaller figures, one of whom had an exaggerated beard, in the bottom left was what might have been a forest, and off to the right was a castle with what appeared to be another triangle on a stick standing on top of it. All in all, the paper was rather crammed with images which had no clear relation to each other, and Bilbo found himself very curious indeed to see what Kili would make of it.

Esmeralda was standing very still, a hopeful expression on her face. Kili stared at the picture for a long moment, then lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across the face of the small figure with the sword.

“It is you,” he said. “Picture you in it.” He looked up at Esmeralda and nodded. “It is good have picture you in it. Very good. Thank you Esmalda.”

Bilbo frowned at the picture, trying to understand how Kili knew that the small figure was Esmeralda, but the hobbitling herself merely beamed. “You’re in it, too!” she said. “We’re going on an adventure!”

“Yes,” Kili said, touching his fingertips to the face of the enormous figure surrounded by black hair. “I as well in it. And Fili.” Here he touched the small figure with the large beard. “Fili also come -- enture?”

“Adventure!” Esmeralda said. “Does Mr. Fili like adventures?” She gave Fili a rather doubtful look, though she appeared to be quite sure that Kili himself liked adventures, or, if he did not like them, he would nonetheless be happy to participate in them with her. 

“Mr. Fili likes adventures very much,” Fili said. He seemed quite taken with the picture, and pointed to one of the other small figures. “And that is Mr. Bilbo, is it not? He is very good at adventures, you know.” 

“Good,” Esmeralda declared. “Mr. Kili won’t want to come if Mr. Bilbo doesn’t come, will you, Mr. Kili?” 

Kili frowned at her. “No,” he said, though Bilbo was not at all certain he had understood the question. “Who this?” he asked, tapping the last of the small figures.

“Mama, of course!” Esmeralda said, and climbed up into her mother’s lap to give her a kiss. “We can’t go without Mama.”

Begonia looked as though she couldn’t decide whether she was pleased to be invited or horrified to be coerced into an adventure. At last, she settled on something close to fond exasperation, and pointed at the triangle on a stick.

“And who is that, my love?” she asked.

“Gandalf,” Kili said quietly, touching the triangle. Then he looked up at Esmeralda. “It is Gandalf, yes?”

“It’s a wizard,” Esmeralda informed him. “He’s going to help us.” 

Kili nodded and looked back down at the picture. “Gandalf,” he muttered. 

“Do you like it?” Esmeralda asked, bouncing up and down a little on her mother’s lap. “I drew it, Mr. Kili!”

“You draw?” Kili said, glancing up at her. “You are good draw. Good picture, thank you Esmalda.” 

Esmeralda laughed with glee and tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “I told you he would like it,” she said in a loud whisper.

“And I never doubted it,” Begonia said, kissing Esmeralda on the forehead. “How could he not, when it is such a fine picture of him?”

“It’s a picture of _us_ ,” Esmeralda said, and then squirmed off her mother’s lap and ran to Kili’s side. She paused when she got there, staring up at him. Kili stared back down at her, and then a moment later he turned to Fili.

“You can take picture?” he asked, holding it out. Fili frowned and opened his mouth, most assuredly about to explain to Kili that it was his picture and he should keep it, but then Kili continued. “Esmalda want sit legs,” he said.

Fili broke into a smile, and indeed, Bilbo found himself smiling, too, to see such a display of intuition from his friend. The picture was duly passed over, and Esmeralda climbed happily into Kili’s lap and hugged him soundly, then curled up as if she planned to spend the rest of the day there. And Kili -- Kili patted her on the head and then placed his arms in such a way as to form a protective barricade. 

Fili turned to Bilbo, his smile growing wider still. “What excellent birthday parties you hobbits do have,” he said.

“That we do, master dwarf,” Bilbo said. “That we do.”

\----

That evening, Bag End felt very cosy indeed, with the memory of Kili’s strange episode seeming much more distant now that there were new, much more pleasant memories to occupy them. After supper, the three friends sat by the fire engaged in their various pursuits. Fili was carefully carving out the inside of one of his new beads to make it large enough to attach to the end of a braid, Bilbo was reading, and Kili was examining his new picture with great care and attention. After perhaps half an hour of companionable silence, Kili looked up.

“Hobbit,” he said, “when we go enture?”

Bilbo frowned at him in confusion. “Enture?” he asked.

“Enture,” Kili said, and then glanced at Fili and pointed at the picture. “Esmalda said go enture.”

“Oh! _Adventure_ ,” Bilbo said.

“Adenture,” Kili said, and then followed the short process of repetition until he had it right. When Bilbo was satisfied, he nodded, and Kili nodded back.

“When we go adventure?” he asked.

“Hm, well,” Bilbo said, “Esmeralda’s picture is not really supposed to be a picture of a real thing, you know. And at any rate, she is far too small to go on adventures for many years yet.”

Kili stared at him. “Picture is not real?” he asked.

“No, it is not real,” Bilbo replied. “It is not like Ori’s pictures. It is something that Esmeralda would like to do, and so she drew a picture of it. But that does not mean you will never go on an adventure.” 

Kili nodded slowly. “Picture is not real,” he muttered to himself. “Hobbit, where adventure is? It is in Shire?”

Fili snorted at this, and when Kili glanced at him he laid a hand on his brother’s arm. “ _Adventure_ is not a place, my brother,” he said. “It is like a journey where you do not know what will happen to you along the way.”

“Like when we went to the Lonely Mountain,” Bilbo put in, for that particular journey had become the very definition of _adventure_ in his mind.

Kili’s face grew disbelieving. “It is this?” he said, and then shook his head. “No, I not understood. Go to mountain? Go to mountain is adventure?”

“It certainly was,” Bilbo said. “It is just as your brother said: a journey where we did not know what was going to happen to us.”

This did not seem to relieve Kili’s confusion. He pointed at the picture and shook his head again. “You -- Esmalda want this? Go adventure, like go mountain? Why she want? It is -- many bad.” 

“Oh,” Bilbo said, suddenly understanding -- for it is very easy to think of only the exciting parts of an adventure when you are curled up before the fire telling stories, and to forget all the misery and horror, and of course that is why those who have never been on an adventure wish to go so much -- because they hear only the excitement and do not consider anything else. “Oh, well, yes, certainly some bad things happened to us.” And here he paused and remembered Kili’s knife against Fili’s throat, and the dreadful gloom of the elvish dungeon, and how Kili stared at nothing after Laketown, and -- and, oh, and the horrors of the battle with the orcs, oh, he was a fool! “Yes,” he said again, “yes, yes, of course, I do not mean to say that all adventures are like that. No, I do not think -- I do not think Esmeralda wants to go on an adventure like that one. I am sorry to have confused you, my lad.”

“But Kili,” Fili said, “that adventure was full of hardship, it is true, but that is not all it was. If we had not -- if we had not gone on that adventure, we never would have found you.”

Kili turned to stare at him, and Fili held his gaze, keeping a hand firmly on his arm. “We would not have found you, my brother,” he said again. Kili looked down and away, but a moment later he raised his head and met his brother’s eyes again. 

“You found me,” he said, so quietly that Bilbo was not entirely sure he intended for Fili to hear it. But Fili did, and he pressed his forehead briefly against his brother’s.

“We found you,” he agreed.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Well, anyway,” he said, “adventures are not always miserable, my lad. What about when we walked from the mountain to here? That was not so terrible, was it?”

Kili turned to look at him. “Walk to Shire was as well adventure?” he asked.

“It certainly was,” Bilbo said. “Although a rather less fraught adventure, in general. And indeed, sometimes even stepping out of your front door for half an hour can be an adventure, especially when you are as young as little Esmeralda. Adventures do not have to be filled with peril and fear -- they can be as simple as climbing a tree. It only means doing something different and new, really.”

Kili considered this. “Climb tree is adventure?” he asked, turning to Fili.

“The way you climb, it is the greatest of adventures,” Fili said with a smile. “We are always having adventures, you and I. Just as it was when we were children.”

Kili sat back in his chair, his expression making it clear that he was settling in for a long period of reflection. Bilbo smiled at Fili, pleased to have at least diverted Kili’s attention from the contemplation of their journey to Erebor, and more than pleased that the darkness of the previous few days seemed to have dissipated entirely.

And later that night, he had another idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to WerewulfTherewulf for prompting me to add the birthday party in! Sometimes I am too dumb to notice perfect plot material even when Sigismond Took makes a point to mention it.


	3. Chapter 3

Having witnessed the effect his previous schemes had had on Kili, Bilbo was rather more cautious about his new idea. He let it sit in his mind for two days, turning it over and prodding it every now and again to see if he could see where it might unravel, and in the meantime he paid close attention to Kili’s mood. When he found no holes in the idea and no unusual darkness in Kili, he at last brought it hesitantly towards the light, sitting Fili down one evening and explaining it to him. Fili, to his credit, kept his temper, but refused to be party to the idea, declaring that they had done quite enough meddling with Kili’s state of mind, and if he would not make his own choices then he would not, and that was all there was to it. But Bilbo knew Fili well, and he waited, biding his time and sure that the seed that he had planted would eventually bear fruit. And so it was, for a few days later Fili came to Bilbo and allowed that the scheme at least seemed unlikely to spin out of their control as the last one had, and it was true that the problem of Kili’s passivity was indeed a problem, and seemed likely to remain so indefinitely if nothing was done.

“But if it upsets him--” he started, and Bilbo nodded vigorously.

“We will stop immediately,” he said. “At the first sign of upset, master dwarf, I promise.”

And so, one morning no more than a week after the birthday party, Bilbo turned to Kili with a smile.

“Would you like to play a game?” he asked.

Kili frowned at him. “Game is for children,” he said. 

“Well, no, not quite,” Bilbo said. “Children certainly play more games than adults do, but that does not mean that adults never play games at all. Card games, for example, or games with dice--” He trailed off, here, remembering Kili’s description of the drowning game the orcs played, and hoping (though he had little doubt it was in vain) that this was not also the first thing that sprang to Kili’s mind.

Kili watched him a moment, then turned to look at Fili. Fili smiled, though he was rather tense.

“I would like to play,” Fili said, apparently to Bilbo, though he looked only at his brother.

“Well, then, we shall play,” Bilbo decided, knowing that getting an answer out of Kili might take rather a long time. “Now, here is the game. Kili, you will go to one of the other rooms in the hobbit hole, and then your brother and I will try to guess which room it is. Whichever one of us is right wins the game. Do you understand?”

Kili looked worried. “It is hiding game?”

“Not at all,” Bilbo said. “No, you are not hiding, I do not want you to hide, certainly not. Just go to another room and wait for us there. But -- only the rooms at the top of the hobbit hole, none of the cellars or deeper rooms, just to make it easier for us.” He had been very careful not to use the word _choose_ , but he felt it was also important to limit the number of options as much as possible, so as to reduce the anxiety associated with decision making. “Now, do you understand?”

Kili opened his mouth and closed it again. “I go other room,” he said. “It is -- nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” Bilbo confirmed. “Just go there and wait for a few minutes. Can you do that, my lad?”

“What I should do in other room?” Kili asked, shooting a worried glance at Fili.

“Well -- you can take your pictures with you and look at them,” Bilbo said, picking up the sheaf of pictures and thrusting them into Kili’s arms. “Just sit down and look at your pictures. That is what you should do.”

This more detailed set of instructions seemed to be enough to remove some of the tension from Kili’s face, and Bilbo was glad of it, for he felt sure that one more worried question would have been enough to have Fili calling off the whole enterprise. Kili got to his feet, the pictures in his arms, and stood uncertainly for a moment.

“I should go now?” he asked.

“Yes, now,” Bilbo said. “Off you go.”

And Kili went.

Bilbo stared after him, rather amazed despite himself that nothing had yet gone wrong. Indeed, he was so busy being surprised that he did not remember the next part of his scheme until Fili spoke.

“The mirror, Bilbo,” he said in a sharp whisper, and Bilbo jumped and took up a little hand mirror that he had placed beside his chair in preparation. At Fili’s insistence, the two of them had rigged up a careful system of mirrors that would allow Bilbo to see exactly which room Kili chose to go into, so that there was no danger of their losing him even for a minute or two. Now Bilbo peered into the mirror and saw Kili standing in the hallway looking rather lost.

“Where--” Fili started, but Bilbo held up his hand.

 _Wait_ , he signed in _iglishmêk_ \-- feeling rather proud of himself for remembering it -- and Fili subsided, though he still sat on the edge of his chair. Bilbo found himself leaning forward, too, waiting and waiting as Kili remained standing in the hall, for if the plan was to go wrong at any point, surely it would be now, when Kili actually had to make his choice, no matter how limited his options and how little was at stake. A minute passed, then two, then ten, and still Kili made no move, so that Bilbo began to worry that he would have to call the game off after all.

And then, Kili went into the dwarves’ bedroom.

Bilbo sat back a little in relief. “The bedroom,” he murmured to Fili. 

“Yours or ours?” Fili asked, though the question was a little academic, since Bilbo had not slept in his own bedroom for more than a month.

“Yours,” Bilbo replied. He smiled and raised his voice. “Well, master dwarf, we should be guessing. I guess -- your bedroom.”

Fili looked suddenly irritated. “I guess the kitchen,” he said loudly. “Though I would have guessed the bedroom if you had not guessed it first.”

“Ah, well, let’s see which of us is right,” Bilbo said, and rose to his feet. They went first to the kitchen, loudly declared it to be empty, and then betook themselves to the bedroom. There, of course, they found Kili, sitting in the corner of the bed holding his pictures in his hands. He looked up when Bilbo and Fili came in -- or in fact, perhaps he had been watching the door already -- and nodded.

“Bedroom,” he said.

“The bedroom, indeed,” Bilbo said. “I am the winner of this round! Now, shall we play again?”

They did play again, this time with Fili being the one to go to another room (for Bilbo did not want Kili to feel that he was being singled out and thus perhaps unravel the reasons behind the game), and although Kili had some trouble with the guessing portion, still he eventually proffered the opinion that Fili might be in the dwarves’ bedroom. Bilbo was not holding his mirror, but nonetheless he heard the slightest of sounds from the hall and thought that if Fili had not been in the dwarves’ bedroom before, he certainly was now.

And so it continued, this strange little game, and each time it was Kili’s turn he would linger in the hall for a little less time, and Bilbo’s heart would grow a little lighter. And then, when they reached the fourth round, he stood only three or four minutes before turning and stepping through the door to the kitchen.

“Kitchen,” Bilbo muttered to Fili.

“I guess he is in the kitchen!” Fili cried immediately. He was, as it turned out, rather competitive, which Bilbo thought was an odd thing to be in a game where the answers were already known, but he was happy enough to indulge his friend if it made him less anxious about his brother.

“I guess the bathroom,” he said, and rose to his feet. The bathroom, of course, proved to be empty, and the two of them trooped back down the hallway to the kitchen, only to find that it was empty, too. 

Fili turned to Bilbo with a frown. “I thought you said kitchen?” he whispered. 

Bilbo nodded, frowning himself and turning around. Could Kili have decided to hide after all? But no, why should he do such a thing, when he knew the rules and disliked hiding so much? But then Bilbo had seen him step through the kitchen door with his own eyes. And where else--

\--but then his eyes lighted on the door to the pantry, which stood slightly ajar.

“Ah,” he said, and gestured to Fili, pointing. After all, the pantry was large enough to be considered a room, and it was certainly at the top of the hobbit hole, so there was no reason why Kili might not consider it a perfectly sensible choice. 

“I guess the pantry,” Fili said immediately, although he had the good grace to look a little sheepish a moment later. Bilbo shook his head in mild exasperation and reached to open the door.

Kili sat tucked into a corner of the shelves with his pictures on the floor in front of him. He was not looking at them, though, nor even watching the door. Instead, he was staring up at a shelf of cheeses, his eyes huge in the half-light.

“Pantry it is,” said Bilbo with a smile. But Fili, now standing in the doorway, was frowning at his brother.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, turning to stare at the cheeses himself as if expecting an orc to jump out from between them.

Kili blinked, and then seemed to shake himself a little. He turned his head to look at Fili, but his gaze kept creeping to one or other shelf.

“You did guess right?” he asked.

Fili nodded, watching Kili with a puzzled expression. “I guessed right,” he said. “I won again.”

“You are very good,” Kili said, staring at a jar of pickled onions. “You always won.”

“Yes,” said Fili, rather absently, given the efforts he had been making to claim the winner’s crown. He glanced around at the pantry shelves and then back at Kili. “Are you hungry?” he asked, though considering they had finished second breakfast less than an hour before, it could hardly have been a very serious question.

Kili managed to tear his eyes away from the food for a moment. “No,” he said, and then seemed to become aware that both Bilbo and Fili were staring at him. He stumbled to his feet, picking up his pictures and cradling them to his chest. “We play again?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then Bilbo stepped forward with a smile.

“I think that is enough for now,” he said. “Fili is clearly the winner. It is lucky for him he knows you so very well.”

“Yes,” Kili said, as though he was not really listening, but he followed them out of the pantry easily enough, though he cast a backward glance or two at it before they left the kitchen altogether. Bilbo, meanwhile, gave the pantry a good hard stare before stepping back into the living room.

He had a feeling it might soon come in rather handy.

\----

Even Fili owned that Bilbo’s new plan had been an unqualified success: Kili had made his own choice -- four times! -- and there had been no unpleasant or difficult scenes, and no lingering consequences that Bilbo could make out. Indeed, if Kili even noticed that he had been tricked into making decisions, he said nothing about it. He was quiet for much of the rest of the day, but that in itself was not unusual and could not be attributed specifically to the game they had played. And so the next day, Bilbo rose from his chair and smiled at Kili.

“Now, then,” he said. “Would you like to play our game again?”

To his surprise and delight, Kili got immediately to his feet and picked up his pictures, with something akin to eagerness in his face. “Same game?” he said. “I go room?”

“The same, indeed,” Bilbo replied. “And yes, since you are ready, by all means go first.”

Kili nodded, but then hesitated, glancing at the door to the hall. “It is -- all rooms are same?” he asked, watching Bilbo without facing him head on. “No room better, no room worse?”

“All the rooms are the same,” Bilbo said. “It makes no difference to your brother or me which one you ch-- which, which one you go into.”

“Yes,” Kili said, and then turned and made his way out into the hall. Bilbo sat down with a bump and snatched up his mirror, and this time he saw that Kili waited for no more than two minutes before slipping into the kitchen.

“Kitchen,” Bilbo whispered to Fili.

Fili nodded. “I guess the kitchen,” he said. And now it was Bilbo’s turn to smirk, for once, although the expression did not feel quite right upon his face, and he rather thought he might look like he was in pain.

“I guess the pantry,” he said.

Sudden realisation dawned on Fili’s face, followed by annoyance. “Well, that is hardly fair,” he said.

“I don’t see why,” Bilbo said, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. “I allowed you to guess first. It is not my fault you guessed wrong.”

“I might still be right,” Fili said.

But of course he was not, for the kitchen was empty of Kili, and when they opened the door to the pantry they found him there just as on the day before, his pictures on the floor in front of him and his head raised to stare at the shelves of food. He glanced at the door when Bilbo and Fili came in, but seemed less than enthused to see them.

“You guess fast,” he said.

“No faster than on any other occasion,” Fili replied. He did not announce who had won, and Bilbo took pity on him and held his own tongue (though he certainly marked his victory onto his mental scoresheet). Kili got to his feet with a hint of reluctance, but this time it was Fili who glanced back at the pantry as they left, and then frowned at his brother as if trying to solve some kind of puzzle.

They played twice more -- although Kili seemed rather distracted -- and then it was Kili’s turn again. This time, he barely hesitated before stepping into the kitchen, but Bilbo turned to Fili -- whose mouth was already open, no doubt to guess the pantry -- and put a finger to his lips.

“Don’t guess yet,” he whispered. “Let’s give him a few minutes.”

Fili closed his mouth, but he frowned at Bilbo. “But he went into the kitchen?” he whispered.

“He certainly did,” Bilbo replied. “I think you and I both know he will not stay there, though.”

Fili lapsed into a short, troubled silence, then shook his head. “He says he is not hungry,” he said. “And he cannot be, for we eat twice as much here as we would in Erebor. Yet--” He cast Bilbo a worried glance. “You do not think he is hungry, do you?”

“Oh, no, master dwarf,” Bilbo said with a smile. “I do not think he is hungry in the least. But it is clear he likes to look at the food.”

This only increased the trouble in Fili’s face. “But why, if he does not want to eat it?” he asked. 

Bilbo considered this for a moment. “Well,” he said, “perhaps -- perhaps he finds it beautiful, as you or I might a painting or a tapestry.”

“But it is only food,” Fili said. “Why should he care so much to look at food?”

It was Bilbo’s turn to frown, now, for it seemed to him that Fili was being very obtuse. “Well, if you had been on the brink of starvation for twenty-five years, you might like to look at food as well, master dwarf,” he whispered.

“Aye, but he is not starving _now_ ,” Fili replied, his face taking on a stubborn expression. “You feed him enough to keep a whole troop of dwarves alive, and he has not been starving for a year or more. He is not starving any more, Bilbo.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to argue back, but then he beheld a hint of misery beneath the mulishness in his friend’s face, and he felt a glimmer of understanding. Kili’s desire to look at the food was harmless in enough in itself, of course; but to Fili, it seemed it was first and foremost a reminder of everything that had happened, everything that Kili had lost -- that they had all lost -- a reminder that no matter how far they had come, they were a long way from escaping the long shadows cast by the orcs. He sighed and reached over to pat Fili’s arm.

“Let it just be enough that there is something that he wants, that makes him happy,” he said. “Let that just be enough for now, my dear friend.”

Fili subsided into his chair, but he looked rather sullen and picked discontentedly at a thread unravelling from his sleeve until Bilbo at last decided that enough time had passed for them to go and collect Kili. 

“I guess the pantry,” Fili said, but he seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for the game. 

“I guess the kitchen,” said Bilbo, for he saw no reason for them to go trooping off to the bathroom or further afield if they did not have to. “Come along, then.”

Kili was in the pantry, of course, but the longer period of time he had had alone in there seemed to have had a slightly odd effect on him. He appeared almost dazed, and Bilbo had to pull him to his feet and shake him a little by the arm to properly catch his attention. 

“Are you all right, my lad?” he asked, feeling mildly concerned.

But Kili nodded, and his eyes seemed clear enough, and he did not avoid Bilbo’s gaze. And so Bilbo led him back to the living room, and they played on for almost an hour. Whenever Kili took a turn, Bilbo and Fili allowed him some ten minutes to himself in the pantry before they went to find him -- and of course, Fili guessed correctly every time, and won the game once again. But by the fourth (and last) time they went to collect Kili from the pantry, his dazed look had been replaced by a frown which he directed at Bilbo.

“Is something the matter?” Bilbo asked when they were all back in the living room and Kili was still frowning. 

Kili glanced at the door through to the kitchen, and then back at Bilbo. “Fili won game,” he said.

“He did indeed,” Bilbo replied. Fili straightened a little in his chair -- he had been somewhat cheered by his victory, but still seemed concerned about Kili’s affinity for the pantry.

“He also yesterday won,” Kili said.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied. “He is very good at guessing where you might go.”

“Yes,” Kili said, mouth twitching unhappily. He did not look at Fili, but only stared at Bilbo. “Today I go same room, four times,” he said. “Always same room.”

Bilbo hesitated, beginning to wonder quite what this was about. “Yes, you did,” he said. “But that is perfectly all right. It is not against the rules.”

“Always same room,” Kili said again. “You never guess right. Only Fili guess.”

“Well, I--” Bilbo started, feeling oddly as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I --”

“Bilbo did guess right,” Fili put in. “He guessed right the first time. I guessed right all the other times.”

“Quite right!” Bilbo said. “Yes, I guessed right the first time. Your brother thought you were in the kitchen.”

Kili did not reply to this, but he did not look very satisfied with the answer. Still, he dropped his head, and stared at his knees for a moment or two. Just when Bilbo thought he had escaped from scrutiny, however, the little dwarf looked up again.

“Hobbit,” he said, “why we play game?”

“Er,” Bilbo said, scrambling for an explanation that did not reveal the true purpose. “Because -- because it is fun.” Kili did not seem to have a grasp yet on what _fun_ meant, and so this seemed to be a safe claim to make.

“Fun,” Kili said, and glanced at Fili, who nodded in affirmation. But Kili turned back to Bilbo and stared at him so intently that Bilbo rather felt as though he could see into his mind and divine all his secrets. “I go same room, always same. Game is easy. Why it is fun?”

“Because--” Bilbo said, and then found himself unable to continue. “Fun is very hard to explain, my lad,” he said at last, and felt a pang of guilt at deliberately misleading Kili as to the meaning of a word. 

But Kili, as it turned out, would not be misled. “It is because I choose,” he said, and then frowned deeply and looked from Bilbo to Fili and back. “It is because I choose, yes? Choose room?”

Bilbo did his very best to look blank, but he felt sure he had the appearance of a rabbit, frozen in the undergrowth when a fox is on the prowl. “I don’t know what you mean,” he squeaked. But even as he said it, Fili leaned forward in his chair.

“Yes, my brother,” he said. “We are trying to help you learn to choose. The game is helping you to choose.”

Bilbo stared at Fili in astonishment, but Fili only shook his head. “You promised him we would not lie to him,” he said. 

And it was true, of course: Bilbo had promised this very thing, and now he was reminded of this, he felt the guilt in his stomach intensify. But if Kili was angry about being lied to, he voiced no complaint. He only sat back in his chair and frowned at nothing for a long moment, then nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Game help. Yes, I choose.” He turned to look at Bilbo. “I choose room.”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Yes, you chose a room. More than once.”

“Always same room,” Kili said, as if to himself. “I choose.” He shook his head. “Why is game more easier choose?”

This sentence was mangled enough that, in ordinary circumstances, Bilbo would have stopped to correct it. But he felt that there was something Kili was struggling towards, and he was loath to break his momentum, so he let it be. “Perhaps because--” he said, thinking hard, “--perhaps because it was not very important? It did not matter which room you chose?”

Kili stared at him for so long that Bilbo began to feel a little uncomfortable, despite the fact that he was well accustomed to the intensity of his friend’s gaze. But at last, he looked away, glancing at Fili and then at the floor. 

“It was not important,” he muttered. 

“Not to us,” Fili said suddenly, “it did not matter to us at all which room you went into. But, Kili,” -- and here he leaned forward even more, so that he was on the very edge of his chair -- “did it -- perhaps it mattered to you? You chose the same room again and again -- maybe that was why it was easier. Because -- there was something you wanted. You wanted to go into that room.”

And now Bilbo felt himself suddenly alight with understanding. Of course! Every time he had tried to coax Kili into making decisions before, he had worked very hard to make sure there was nothing at stake -- that there was little to choose between the options, and that the outcome would change nothing. But here -- here had been a decision in which one of the choices had been clearly preferable, to Kili at least, and in the meantime he had been specifically assured that Bilbo and Fili cared only that he made a choice, and not what that choice might be. Ah! Here was the key, then, that he had been missing all this time.

But if Bilbo felt himself very much enlightened, Kili did not seem so at all. Indeed, he looked more worried than anything, and he seemed to want to hunch and shrink, although he did not quite do so. “I not,” he said, “I not -- not want. I not want.”

Fili put a hand on his arm. “But you went in there,” he said. “You kept going in there.”

Kili looked up at him, open-mouthed. “Room is good,” he whispered. “Good in room.”

“Aye, my brother,” Fili said with a warm smile. “You liked it in there. You wanted to go in.”

For a moment or two, Kili did not seem capable of speech. Then he blinked. “I liked,” he said. “I -- I wanted? I wanted this?”

“Yes,” Fili replied. “You wanted this.”

\----

Fili’s words were enough to send Kili into a fit of contemplation that lasted for hours. After a while, Bilbo got up to make them all some tea, and when he came back, he was surprised to find that Kili was sitting alone in the living room, sunk deep in thought. Bilbo placed his blackberry tea by his elbow and went in search of Fili.

He found him in the pantry, of all places, and how he had slipped in there without Bilbo hearing him, he had not the first idea. Fili stood examining the shelves in the corner with the aid of a lamp, running his fingers gently along the wood. He seemed not to have noticed Bilbo’s entrance, and jumped a little when Bilbo coughed behind him.

“Am I to have two pantry-dwelling dwarves on my hands now?” Bilbo asked with a smile.

“Bilbo,” Fili said, “I was just thinking -- if we took off the ends of these shelves here” -- and here he traced a line down the shelves a foot or two from the corner -- “and here, we could make an alcove.” He stood back, eyeing the shelves with a frown. “I am not much of a carpenter,” he said. “Dwarves are more skilled in metal and stone than wood. But if I could borrow some tools--”

“An alcove?” said Bilbo, finding his voice after his initial surprise. “An -- but why would we need an alcove?” 

Fili stared at him like the answer was obvious. “For Kili’s chair,” he said, and then suddenly seemed to realise that, whatever conversation he had been having in his head, he had not spoken it aloud to Bilbo. “I mean -- because he likes it in here. He likes to sit in here.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “Not three hours ago you were most unhappy about the idea of him liking it in here,” he said.

Fili’s mouth tightened, and Bilbo saw that the unhappiness had not gone away, but only been pushed aside. “I was,” Fili said. “But -- he wants something, Bilbo. It is -- he has not --” And here he trailed off and turned back sharply to the shelves. “Here,” he said hoarsely, and then cleared his throat and pointed. “If we cut here I think -- I think it will do.”

Bilbo pondered for a moment if permanently altering the structure of his hobbit hole might be a rather hasty reaction to what was, when all was said and done, only a preference shown in a silly parlour game. And then he decided that there was nothing wrong with a bit of hastiness, every now and then.

“I’ll find you a saw,” he said.

\----

Bag End disposed of all manner of household goods, some useful and many not particularly so, so that, were one to require anything in particular, there can be no doubt that a thorough search would produce such an item. Bilbo, however, had had no cause to perform repairs to the hobbit hole for many years, for he had always asked Holman Greenhand to undertake such tasks, and so, although he knew that woodworking tools must exist somewhere within the maze-like confines of his home, still he had not the first idea where to look for them. Nonetheless, he made quite an effort for perhaps ten minutes, before getting to his feet after peering under the bed in an unused guest room and realising that a truly comprehensive investigation might take all day.

“Bother,” he said to himself. “Well, after all, there is no need for it to be _my_ saw.” 

And so he took his coat from beside the front door and made his way down to the snug little hobbit hole where Holman lived. Holman himself was outside despite the rather chilly weather, working industriously in his vegetable garden (though what reason there might be to do such a thing in late October, Bilbo had no idea -- he rather suspected Holman simply enjoyed working for its own sake). He looked up when Bilbo’s shadow fell across him, and his face broke into a broad grin.

“Ah, now, Mr. Bilbo,” he said. “I have not seen you in far too long. And I hear your Mr. Kili has been getting out and about? By hisself, by all accounts!”

He looked so pleased at this evidence of independence from Kili that Bilbo had not the heart to tell him how it had all come crashing down. Instead, he gave his best smile and resolved to be happy that such a sturdy, respectable hobbit was interested in Kili’s progress at all.

“Indeed,” he said, “though he has decided to stay indoors for the next little while, at least. But Holman, could I borrow a saw?”

“A saw?” Holman asked. “Why, certainly! But what are you doing up there, Mr. Bilbo? I wouldn’t want you to do yourself an injury.”

Bilbo, who of course had survived a quest, an elvish dungeon, riddling with a live dragon and a dreadful battle (among many other perils), felt somewhat put-out by the implication of Holman’s words. But, he supposed, no matter how unrespectable he might have become, Holman would always see him as a gentlehobbit, and therefore assume he was incapable of doing anything for himself.

“It is not for me,” he said. “It is for Fili.”

Holman nodded -- it seemed he was much less concerned about a dwarf handling such a dangerous tool than a hobbit such as Bilbo -- and wiped his hands off on his breeches. “And what else might he be needing?” he asked. “Hammer? Nails? Chisel?”

“Er,” Bilbo said. “Yes, yes, all of those, I suppose.” In truth, he had not the first idea, but it was better to have something and not need it than need something and not have it, as his mother had always said (which perhaps might go a long way towards explaining just why Bag End was so very full of household items in the first place). 

“Hm,” said Holman. “Right you are, then. If you’ll just give me a moment.” And he disappeared into his hobbit hole, and reappeared a moment later carrying a large box which clanked rather as he moved.

“Thank you v--” started Bilbo, and then stopped, for Holman marched past him and up in the direction of Bag End. “Er,” he said, hurrying to catch up, “I’m sure I can carry it myself.” 

“I don’t doubt it, Mr. Bilbo,” Holman said, “but I’m sure your Mr. Fili will be glad of a little help with his project. Many hands make light work, and all that.” 

It was clear from his face that he would not take no for an answer, and if Bilbo was honest with himself, Fili’s remark about his own lack of skill in woodworking had led to a vision of collapsing shelves which he had been doing his very best to banish from his head, so he made no further protest but only accompanied Holman up the hill and in through the front door of Bag End. The two of them passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen, and Holman paused and nodded at Kili, who was still sunk in silent contemplation in his chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kili,” he said. “I hope you are well?”

Kili, who seemed a little startled by Holman’s unexpected appearance, took a moment to answer, and seemed to be groping for the correct words, for he had not really progressed far beyond _hello_ in his greeting skills despite the many months he had been learning Common. “Well,” he said finally -- for he had something of a tendency to repeat the last words that had been spoken to him when he was nervous. “Yes.” And then, with a worried glance at Bilbo, he added, “Hello.”

Holman’s face split into a broad smile. “Hello, indeed,” he said, and then continued on his way to the kitchen, whistling cheerfully. Bilbo smiled at Kili as well and patted him on the shoulder to let him know that he had performed his duty admirably, and then followed Holman.

He found him standing in the pantry doorway peering in at Fili, who was still examining the shelves. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fili,” he was saying. “Mr. Bilbo tells me you have need of some tools.”

“Aye, I do, at that,” Fili said, looking a little surprised but not at all put-out by Holman’s presence. “A measuring tape first of all, I think.” He pointed at the shelves. “Do you know much about shelves, Mr. Greenhand? I want to make an alcove.”

“Well, now,” Holman said, setting his tool-box down on the kitchen table and opening it up, “what kind of an alcove? For storing barrels, perhaps?”

“For a dwarf,” Fili said, and then amended himself. “For an armchair with a dwarf in it.”

Holman, kindly, steadfast hobbit that he was, responded to this with no more that a brief raise of his eyebrows. “Right you are,” he said, advancing with the measuring tape in hand. “Well, then, let’s see.”

Bilbo, pleased to see his questionable abilities would not be required, poured Holman some tea (something which he had not the slightest doubt about his ability to do) and then returned to the living room to find Kili eyeing the kitchen door with a rather wary look. The sound of sawing had already begun to emanate from the pantry, and Kili turned to Bilbo with a frown.

“What they are do?” he said.

“ _Doing_ ,” Bilbo said, settling down opposite him. “Do you remember when we talked about - _ing_ words?”

Kili stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I am not good remember hobbit-speech.”

“You are not good _at remembering_ \--” started Bilbo, but Kili looked so despondent at this second correction that he stopped and patted his arm instead. “Well, never mind that for now,” he said. “They are making some -- improvements to the pantry.” For he felt sure that Fili would want the new alcove to be a surprise for his brother, and did not want to spoil it.

Kili’s mouth twisted slightly in a way that suggested he had not really understood Bilbo’s response, but he did not ask for further clarification. “Pantry,” he said instead, looking again at the door to the kitchen. “Pantry is room where food. It is this, yes?”

“Yes, quite right,” Bilbo said. “ _Pantry_ is the word for the room where we keep all the food.” He was about to elucidate further on the fine differences between a pantry and a larder -- not to mention a cellar or a buttery -- when Kili spoke again.

“Fili say I like,” he said. “He say I like go pantry.”

“Yes, he did,” Bilbo said, sitting up a little straighter, for it seemed to him that this had quickly become the kind of conversation that might lead to a breakthrough in Kili’s state of mind. 

Kili nodded. “He is right?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Bilbo replied carefully. “Certainly you did go in there every time we played our game this morning. But that might be only because it was easier, because you had already been in there when we played yesterday.” Privately, of course, he was quite convinced that Kili liked the pantry very much, but he wished above all for Kili to come to this conclusion on his own. 

“Which it is?” asked Kili with a small frown. “Because it is easier?” 

“I don’t know, Kili,” Bilbo said again, with as much patience as he could muster. “Which do you think it is? Do you feel good in the pantry? Do you want to go in there? Or do you only go in because it is easy?”

Kili stared at him for a long moment, and Bilbo waited and held his tongue, though not without difficulty, for he was on tenterhooks to hear Kili’s answer. But when it came, it was not at all what Bilbo was hoping for: the little dwarf ducked his head suddenly and looked away, and when he spoke it was half-muffled by the hair that had suddenly fallen across his face.

“Because easy,” he muttered. “No, I not like. Not want, not like.”

Bilbo, naturally, felt rather deflated at this. “Oh,” he said, and then tried to decide whether to prod Kili further -- for he was quite sure that this was not the whole of it, especially given that Kili now seemed not to be able to look him in the eye -- or to let the matter rest. But at that moment there was an especially loud clatter from the pantry, and Kili started rather violently. Bilbo, looking closely, saw that he was holding himself with great tension, and perhaps his hands were even trembling a little. This was quite enough to resolve him on a course of action, and he leapt to his feet.

“That’s one question solved, anyway,” he said with determined cheerfulness. “Now come along, it is far too long since we discussed the names of all your friends.” And he took Kili by the arm and raised him from his chair, tugging him out of the room towards the guest bedroom, where the majority of his pictures were now once more pinned up around the walls. But before he left the room entirely, he glanced back at Kili, and saw that he was looking towards the kitchen door. And he knew then that the question was not solved.

Not at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Fili and Holman were at their alcove-making all of the rest of that day, and much of the next. Bilbo kept Kili away from the kitchen and the noise, and found him things to occupy himself with in the bedroom or outside. But towards mid-afternoon on the second day, Kili grew increasingly restless, until at last Bilbo frowned and sat down in front of him.

"What is the matter, my lad?" he asked. "Is there something you want?"

Kili hesitated, and Bilbo began to prepare himself for a long battle to discover what it was that was troubling his friend. But -- to his surprise and satisfaction -- such a battle never occurred. For after a moment, Kili glanced towards the bedroom door and spoke.

"We play game?" he asked.

"Certainly, we can play a game," Bilbo said, delighted by this request. "What game would you like to play?"

Kili stared at him, unblinking. "Not--" he said, and then shook his head and looked away. "I not mean this," he said.

"Oh," Bilbo said, finding himself rather disappointed. "Well, then, I'm afraid I did not understand you."

"No," Kili muttered, and then seemed to pull himself together. "I ask -- we play -- _if_ we play today game. Game we played before."

"You want to know if we _will_ play that game today," Bilbo said. " _Will_ , remember?"

"Will," Kili repeated. "We will play today game? Game of before?"

"Hm," Bilbo said, listening carefully and hearing the faint sounds of hammering still drifting from the direction of the kitchen. "Well, no, I think not today."

Kili nodded slowly. "We not play again?" he said. "We -- we not will play again?"

This question, of course, immediately sparked a suspicion in Bilbo that the game was important in some way to Kili. However, he could not for the life of him tell from Kili's face whether the little dwarf was hoping for a _yes_ or a _no_ , and after his mistake with the pantry the day before, he did not wish to assume too much. It was all quite vexing, to be sure!

"Why do you ask?" he said at last, deciding that more information was required before he could properly answer the question.

Kili frowned a little. "We play yesterday," he said. "Play also -- yesterday yesterday."

"The day before yesterday," Bilbo supplied. "Yes, we have played two days in a row, now." 

"Yes, two days," Kili said. "I did think -- did think we play. Did think you like play."

Ah! Now there was the tiny opening into Kili's murky thought processes that Bilbo had been hoping for. It seemed to him that Kili would not have suggested that Bilbo liked to play unless he wanted to play himself. For a moment, he considered trying to lead Kili towards expressing his own desire, but then he soundly rejected the idea -- for, although he was not always the wisest of hobbits, nonetheless he had learned something from the disaster that had been his last attempt to push Kili too quickly. 

"Well," he said, “you are right, of course, I do enjoy that game. Perhaps we will play it tomorrow. Or even this afternoon, if your brother has finished with his project."

At this mention of Fili's renovations, Kili seemed to withdraw a little, a circumstance which naturally troubled Bilbo's mind. He had considered telling Fili what Kili had said about not liking the pantry, but decided against it for a number of reasons. First was that he still believed that there was more to Kili's feelings than his short statement had revealed. Second was that he felt that Fili had become a little overwrought in the past few days, and it was good for him to have some way to focus his energies. And third -- and perhaps most important -- was that if he told him and Fili abandoned the project, Bilbo would find himself with a pantry containing half an alcove, and half an alcove was no use to anyone. And so he had held his tongue, and hoped that there would be no serious consequences to his silence. Now, though, seeing Kili's reaction to the mention of what Fili was doing, he felt an unpleasant foreboding in his heart.

And as it happened, it was at that moment that the hammering stopped.

Kili, ever aware of his surroundings, sat up straighter, glancing again towards the bedroom door, but saying nothing. Bilbo waited a little while, but once it became clear that this was not merely a brief respite, but possibly even a true and final cessation, he took Kili's arm.

"At least we can go back to the living room," he said.

When they got there, though, Kili paused in the doorway, eyeing the room with a doubtful expression.

"Hobbit," he said, "where I should sit? I should sit on floor?"

"Not at all!" Bilbo said. "You should sit where you always sit, of course." But when he turned to point at Kili's chair, he saw that it had disappeared. He did not have long to ponder this, however, for a moment later, Fili stepped through the door, looking rather filthy and with sawdust in his beard.

"There you are," he said with a smile. "I have something to show you, my brother."

He took Kili's arm and led him towards the kitchen. Bilbo felt a nervous fluttering in his chest, and hurried to catch up with them, tugging on Fili's sleeve.

"Fili, perhaps this can wait," he said.

Fili glanced at him in confusion. "Wait?" he said. "Why would it need to wait?"

And Bilbo, try as he might, could invent no reason -- or at least, not in the time it took to walk from the living-room to the kitchen. He was still thinking franticly when Fili flung open the pantry door and turned to his brother with a broad grin.

"Do you see?" he asked.

Kili stood in the doorway, staring in. Bilbo peered around him and saw that the alcove showed little evidence of its hasty construction. It was snug and inviting, the edges of the shelves sanded carefully smooth, and Kili's armchair set neatly within the oval space. Fili had placed a lamp on one of the shelves a little above head-height for a dwarf, and this shed a pleasant, warm glow over the shelves of jars and bottles and assorted foodstuffs, making them seem almost as something from a painting rather than the prosaic items they truly were. Why, it almost made Bilbo wish to curl up in the pantry himself!

Kili, however, did not go and sit in the chair, but only looked at his brother with a troubled expression.

"It is chair where I sit," he said. 

"Yes," Fili replied. "It is your chair."

Kili nodded. "I should sit here?" he asked.

"Yes," said Fili, at the same time as Bilbo said "Only if you want to." Kili's troubled frown deepened, and he glanced anxiously from one to the other. Fili, too, turned to frown at Bilbo, and then after a moment turned back to his brother. 

"You should sit," he said. "I made it so you could sit."

Kili looked again at Bilbo, and Bilbo, who was both concerned not to further upset the little dwarf and perhaps a trifle wary of Fili's temper, nodded his head. "Why don't you sit down for a little while?" he said.

Bilbo saw immediately that this had been the right thing to say, for there was a great easing of tension in Kili, and he went without hesitation to sit in the armchair. But even so, he did not look quite at ease, and he eyed Fili and Bilbo cautiously even as he settled himself.

"I should always sit here now?" he asked. "No more sit with you?"

"Goodness me, no," Bilbo said. "Why should you think that? Your brother and I would miss you terribly if you were to spend the rest of your life in the pantry!" 

Kili's mouth twitched. "Chair is here," he said.

"We will get you another chair, Kili," Fili said. "Bilbo is right. We would miss you if you were always in here." He smiled, leaning down to give his brother a swift hug. "I would miss you," he said.

At this, Kili seemed at last to let go of the nervousness he had displayed ever since Fili started working on his alcove the day before. He sat back in his chair and gazed around at the shelves, then nodded at Fili.

"I understand," he said. 

"Well, we shall leave you to your alcove," Bilbo said, quite relieved that Kili seemed so unperturbed by his odd change of scenery. "Oh, but there is one more thing." He hurried off to the airing cupboard, and came back a moment later with his arms full of blankets, which he dropped on Kili's lap. “A fire in here would not be good for the food," he said, "and besides, there is no fireplace. But I do not want you catching cold, master dwarf, so you must wrap up warm." 

Kili obediently wrapped himself in a blanket, already seeming rather lost in his contemplation of a great ham that hung from the ceiling. Bilbo found himself smiling broadly, and he led Fili back into the kitchen. "Well, my friend" he said, patting Fili on the shoulder, "I must admit I had my doubts, but it seems your handiwork was just the thing."

Fili, though, did not seem entirely satisfied. "I thought he would be -- more pleased," he said, frowning at the kitchen door and scratching at his beard, sending crumbs of sawdust spiralling to the floor.

"I think he is pleased," Bilbo said. Certainly, Kili seemed a great deal more pleased than Bilbo had expected, but he did not feel that now was the time to reveal to Fili what Kili had said about not liking the pantry. “But he is Kili. You can hardly expect him to dance a jig.”

“No,” Fili said, still staring at the door. He did not seem really to be listening to Bilbo, and so Bilbo gave up talking to him and went about his business, happy at least that no major disaster had occurred. Indeed, everything had been going remarkably smoothly for some time, and so of course Bilbo should have known that something less pleasant would soon occur. But he did not know, and in any case, the form that it took, when it came, was rather unexpected.

It was perhaps an hour after Kili had been installed in the pantry, and past time for afternoon tea, when Fili made as if to get to his feet.

“He has been in there long enough, I think,” he said. “I will fetch him.”

“Hm,” Bilbo replied. “But do you not think that you might ask him whether he wants to come out or not?”

Fili stared at him a moment, then settled back into his chair. “No,” he said, looking very serious. “I do not think I will.”

Bilbo, rather surprised by the intensity of Fili’s gaze, found himself squirming a little. “Oh, well,” he stuttered, “but don’t you think--”

“I do not,” Fili said. There was no sharpness in his tone, but there was a finality there that made it clear that he would brook no argument. “He is not ready, Bilbo. I am surprised you still have not understood this.”

Bilbo opened his mouth, and then closed it again, feeling suddenly rather like he was talking to Thorin -- or rather, perhaps more like he was talking to Dis, for there was nothing of Thorin’s impatience about Fili’s expression or tone, but the odd weight that his words seemed to carry reminded Bilbo very much of his mother. And, just as when he talked to Dis, he found himself taking great care over the words he chose, and feeling very much like a silly little hobbit. 

“I do understand, of course,” he said finally. “I know as well as you that he does not want to make choices for himself. But if we simply let him go on, he will never take that step by himself. We must push him, Fili, or he will never learn.”

Fili sat back in his chair. There had been times -- very recent times, in fact, perhaps only the day before -- when Bilbo had worried that his friend was far too emotional, that having his brother returned to him in the state he was in had created in him a great fragility that lay just beneath the surface of his smiling, confident exterior. But at this moment, Bilbo could see nothing of these cracks. All he saw was a determination, and a certainty that rather took his breath away.

“You are often right, my friend,” Fili said. “Far more often than I. But you are not right now. We pushed him before, and he came back cowering at shadows. I would not see that again, even if it means it takes him a dozen years to learn to think for himself.” Bilbo opened his mouth to protest this, but Fili raised a hand. “But I do not think it will be so,” he said. “No-one pushes Kili as hard as he pushes himself. It was so before the orcs, and it is so now. He is much changed, it is true. But he is still my brother.”

Bilbo frowned. “He has no reason to push himself,” he said. “He does not want to make his own choices. He is quite happy letting us make them all for him.”

Fili shook his head. “I know you believe this,” he said, “but I disagree. I know I have lost my temper with you a few times of late, and I am sorry for that, for I know you are only trying your best. But I will not ask Kili what he wants, and you will not, either.”

“Oh, will I not?” Bilbo asked, beginning to feel a little nettled by being pushed about in this manner. But Fili only fixed him with his serious gaze.

“You will not,” he said. “You are his dear friend. But I am his brother, and his care rests with me.”

Well, Bilbo fairly spluttered at this, for of course there were many times recently when he had found himself burdened with Kili’s care, and Fili’s, too, for that matter. “Your mother entrusted him to me,” he managed at last -- though he did not mention that Dis had in fact entrusted both her sons to him, for it seemed almost laughable that he might claim any kind of charge over Fili, for all that he looked after him in his darker moods.

“She did,” Fili said with a small smile. “But that was six months ago or less. She entrusted him to me the day he was born, and I have never given that trust up, though I have not always fulfilled it as I would have liked. He is my brother, Bilbo, and I have listened to your advice and followed it many times, but this time I will not.” He rose to his feet, and laid a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “I will not ask him if he wants to leave,” he said. “I will tell him. It is what he needs to make him feel safe.”

And this last, of course, Bilbo could not deny. For a moment, he tried to formulate a thought about there being things that were more important than feeling safe. But after careful consideration, he realised that, though this is true for many, if not most, it was perhaps not true for Kili, not then and there. And in any case, Fili had already left the room, and Bilbo could hear his low voice murmuring in the pantry. He frowned after him, and tried to disentangle his feelings, for he felt rather hurt, and a little angry, and oddly guilty, and all of these things were rather a lot for one small hobbit who had been expecting nothing of the sort. But then Fili returned with Kili in tow, and Bilbo made a determined effort to seem just as cheerful and carefree as always. He sat down opposite Kili and smiled at him, though he felt not quite so at ease as he usually did, for he was very aware of Fili at Kili’s elbow.

“Did you enjoy your new alcove?” he asked. 

Kili stared at him. “New--?” he said.

“Alcove,” Bilbo said. “It is the name for the space you were sitting in in the pantry. Your brother made it for you.”

“Alcoh,” Kili said, and glanced at Fili. “What it is for?” 

“It is for you to sit in, my brother,” Fili said. “So that you have somewhere to sit when you are in the pantry.” 

“It was made especially for you,” Bilbo said. “Do you know what that means?” 

Kili thought for a moment. “It means -- I should sit in pantry? But -- but not always.” He glanced again at Fili. “Fili say not always. Because miss.”

“Well, that is not quite what it means,” Bilbo said. “It means that you may go to the pantry whenever you want to. You have your own chair in there, you see? It means you can go whenever you feel like you might want to look at the food. You do not have to ask first. You can just go.”

“Bilbo,” Fili said, with a warning frown.

“Yes, master dwarf?” Bilbo said, in the most enquiring and innocent of tones. Perhaps Fili was ultimately Kili’s guardian in a way that Bilbo could never hope to be -- and did not want to be, for of course he had no interest in trying to replace Kili’s family -- but that did not mean Bilbo would simply do whatever he was told. 

“We have talked about this,” Fili said.

“We have, indeed,” Bilbo replied, smiling at Kili and patting his knee. But Kili frowned and glanced warily at his brother.

“You are angry?” he said.

Fili stared at Bilbo just a moment longer, then turned to Kili with a soft smile. “I am not angry, my brother,” he said. “Not angry in the least.”

Kili watched him for a short time, as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth. But Fili only sat and smiled and allowed himself to be watched, and at last, Kili turned back to Bilbo. 

“Alcoh,” he said. 

“ _Alcove_ ,” said Bilbo, making sure to speak clearly. “You can go there whenever you want. That is what it means, that your chair is there. Do you understand?”

Kili nodded, though he seemed rather hesitant. “Yes,” he said. “Understand.” 

“Good,” said Bilbo. “Well, then, I think it is time for tea.” And he rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen. But he did not go alone: Fili followed him there, and Bilbo, turning, braced himself for harsh words. And indeed, it seemed at first that he would receive them, for Fili was scowling at him fiercely, looking this time not at all like Dis, but only like Thorin. But a moment later, the scowl dissolved, and Fili only sighed.

“He will not go,” he said, his voice low so that Kili would not hear. “He will not choose to go by himself.”

“Well, there can certainly be no harm in telling him that he may,” Bilbo said. This, of course, was not necessarily true, for Bilbo had learned by bitter experience that when it came to Kili, there were many things that could cause harm when it was least expected. But this, he felt sure, was not one of them -- for after all, he had not told Kili he _had_ to choose whether or not to go to the pantry, only that he could if he wanted to.

It seemed for a moment that Fili was about to say something else -- but whatever it was, he closed his mouth around it and turned away, picking up the tray that Bilbo had been loading with tea and cake. Bilbo sighed and wondered when he had gone from feeling quite cheerful and content in his snug hobbit hole with his two beloved friends, to feeling rather ill at ease and obscurely guilty. But after a moment’s feeling sorry for himself, he chided himself for a foolish hobbit and followed Fili back to the living room. After all, he had nothing to feel guilty about.

\----

In the event, Fili was quite right: Kili did not take up the opportunity to go and sit in the pantry of his own accord, not that day, nor the next, either. This came as no great surprise, of course, but even so, Bilbo found himself oddly disappointed. He had hoped -- oh, it had been a foolish hope, but a hope nonetheless -- that, with the way so clear of obstacles, and the object so greatly desired, Kili might have found it a little easier than before to choose something just for himself. After all, he was happy enough to look at his pictures without so much as a by your leave. Perhaps, though, the game they had played had led Bilbo believing that the pantry was more important to Kili than it actually was -- after all, he had had to go to one room or another, and indeed, he had even declared that he did not care for it when Bilbo had asked him outright. But Bilbo could not help but remember the way he had stared and stared at the food, the way he had even seemed dazed after too long spent among the shelves, and wonder that this could be a result of indifference or dislike. 

On the second day after the alcove was finished, Bilbo had his answer. Shortly after elevenses, Kili sat up in his chair and frowned a little.

“Hobbit,” he said, “we play -- we will play game?”

“Game?” Bilbo asked. “Would you like to play the game?”

Kili’s frown deepened. “You said -- you said before yesterday play, but we not play. We will not play again?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Bilbo said. “Well, it is only because I forgot! Certainly we can play again. In fact, we shall play right now!” And he looked at Fili, who nodded and smiled.

“I should be very glad to play,” he said. 

“Splendid,” Bilbo said. “Well, now, why don’t you go first, Kili, since it was your idea?”

This suggestion did not have quite the effect Bilbo was hoping for, for Kili looked suddenly quite distressed and ducked his head, letting his hair fall across his face.

“It not my idea,” he muttered. “Not my. Hobbit idea. I ask only, only ask.”

“Oh, of course,” Bilbo said hastily, patting Kili’s arm. “Of course it was not your idea. I only mean to say it was you that reminded me, since I had already said we would play. And you should go first, because it was you that reminded me.”

Kili, after a moment or two of hesitation, came cautiously out from behind his hair. “I go?” he said.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied. “You should go.”

And so Kili went, and of course Bilbo did not need his mirror to see where he chose to go. But nonetheless he frowned after him, for he was concerned by how unhappy Kili had been with the attribution of an idea to him. After all, he had had ideas before -- it had been his idea to pretend to be a _snaga_ in Lake-Town, more than a year ago now! -- and had never seemed overly perturbed. This odd reluctance on Kili’s part to claim any kind of thought or will at all caused an uneasiness deep in Bilbo’s stomach, an uneasiness that he rather thought might have been growing for some time, but had only now made itself known.

“Shall we leave him to the pantry?” Fili asked, breaking into Bilbo’s worried thoughts.

“What? Oh, yes, I suppose we should,” Bilbo said. 

And so they did.

\----

Bilbo left Kili in the pantry for almost an hour before deciding it was time to go and fetch him. Fili had gone down into the village to buy some fresh eggs, and so Bilbo found himself making for the pantry alone. A thought crept into his mind that perhaps he might do just as Fili refused to do, and ask Kili if he was ready to leave or not -- and surely, if Kili could not reply then he could make the decision for him, but if he could, well, would that not be quite the triumph for Bilbo? But when he stepped in through the pantry door and observed his friend, wrapped up in his blanket and tucked into the armchair, he remembered of a sudden how Kili had grown unhappy at the very suggestion that an idea might be attributed to him, and he decided that perhaps it was Fili who had the right of it, after all.

“Hello there, my lad,” he said with a smile, touching Kili’s shoulder to attract his attention (for he seemed quite distracted by an admittedly impressive marrow). “Time to go back to the living room.”

Kili turned and blinked at him. “Hobbit,” he said, and then frowned. “You are long time guess.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, “well, we guessed a lot of other rooms first, but you weren’t in any of them. And that means that you win this round, I think!”

Kili’s frown deepened at this, though he came easily enough to his feet when Bilbo tugged on his arm, and followed Bilbo out of the pantry without the least hesitation. “We play again?” he asked, and then paused in the doorway to the living room, glancing around. “Fili already go room?”

“Your brother has gone out for a little while,” Bilbo said. “We will have to play again some other time. Why don’t you sit down and look at your pictures?”

Kili sank obediently into his chair and took up the pictures, but he did not look at them, but rather stared at Bilbo intently.

“Was there something else you wanted to ask?” Bilbo said.

Kili stared a moment longer, then looked away. “No ask,” he mumbled.

“Hm,” said Bilbo. But it seemed, indeed, that Kili had nothing to ask, and now he had redirected his fierce concentration to his pictures, so Bilbo let him be.

\----

If Bilbo Baggins had been asked to describe what life in his cosy hobbit hole was like in the next few days, he would certainly have used the word _quiet_. The three inhabitants of Bag End went about their business, and spent much of their time gathered in the living room around the fire, for the weather had taken something of a chilly turn as October gave way to November. Cosy it was indeed, and snug, and there was plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, and it was everything a once-respectable hobbit like our Mr. Baggins could have wished for. But above all, it was _quiet_.

Everything a hobbit could wish for perhaps, and yet, something was amiss, and for all the cosiness and warm fire, Bilbo felt quite ill at ease. Kili had grown silent indeed, and spent a great deal of his time staring at nothing, but when Bilbo asked him if something was the matter, he merely mumbled into his hair and refused to meet Bilbo’s gaze. At first, Bilbo thought this was merely one of his shy moods, which, though not quite as frequent as they had once been, still made regular appearances, with no apparent explanation. But as one day passed into the next, and Kili said scarcely a word to Bilbo and precious little more to Fili, the unease in Bilbo’s heart began to grow, and to gnaw at him a little, and to tinge all the good cheer and comfort of the hobbit hole with a sort of nagging unpleasantness. Kili did not even ask to play the game any more, and although at last Bilbo gave up waiting and announced that they would play himself, Kili seemed quite indifferent to it, and even a little reluctant, if truth be told, so that they gave it up very soon after they began, and did not play again.

Perhaps it was Kili whose behaviour was causing the most disquiet in Bilbo’s heart, but it was Fili -- as so often -- who brought the matter to a head. He, it seemed, had been afflicted much as Bilbo had by Kili’s silence, and had gone from general good cheer to unsmiling seriousness, and from there to worried frowns interspersed with bouts of crossness. At last, on the day after their attempt to play Kili’s game, Fili took Bilbo aside, dragging him into the kitchen and closing the door.

“Have you done something to make my brother angry with you?” he asked, before Bilbo even had the chance to sit down at the table.

“Angry?” Bilbo asked, astonished. “Do you think he is angry with me?”

Fili scowled, glancing at the door. “Well, upset, then,” he said. “He is certainly not himself. What have you said to him?”

“Why should you think I have said anything at all?” Bilbo snapped, feeling quite hard done by -- and not for the first time that week, for he had not forgotten Fili’s assertion of his authority over Kili, although he had tried to accept it. “He barely speaks to me, so I can hardly have had the chance to say something to upset him!”

“Well, I have not said anything,” Fili said, “and so it must have been you. Think, Bilbo. You must have done something.”

“Oh, you dwarves are quite impossible!” Bilbo cried. “First I am responsible for Kili’s wellbeing, then I am told I cannot make decisions regarding him, and now despite that it must be my fault whenever he is miserable! As if your brother were not capable of flinging himself into the darkest of moods without anyone’s help at all.”

Fili seemed quite surprised by this outburst, but he did not shout back, only narrowed his eyes a little. “You know as well as I that he is rarely so unhappy without good cause,” he said.

“Do I, indeed?” Bilbo asked. “And do you not think that the shadows he has in his mind from all those years of horror are good cause enough? No, apparently it takes a hobbit to do what orcs cannot.” 

Fili’s jaw grew tight, then, and Bilbo clamped his teeth down on what he had been going to say next, which would no doubt have been just as ill-tempered -- and ill-considered -- and drew in a deep breath. “I have not done anything,” he said, rather stiffly. “I have not done anything, and I have not said anything, and I would thank you not to assume that everything is always my fault. But if you would like, I will talk to Kili, so that we may be sure.”

Fili watched him for a long moment, then nodded. 

“We will ask him,” he said. “If you can manage to keep a rein on your temper.”

This, of course, made Bilbo’s temper swell up all the more, but he swallowed it down and nodded back.

“Well, then,” he said, and stalked into the living room. Once there, he paused to pull himself together -- for perhaps Fili was behaving unfairly, but it was true enough that it would not do to ask Kili any difficult questions while he was still feeling angry and snappish. Once he was sure that he would be able to prevent any left-over annoyance from presenting itself in his voice, he sat opposite Kili and reached over to pat his knee.

“Now, then, my lad,” he said. “What is this all about? Have I done something to make you angry?”

Kili lifted his head and frowned at him, then looked quickly away, just as he had been doing for the last few days. “I not understand,” he mumbled.

“I am asking why you are so gloomy and quiet,” Bilbo said, making sure to speak clear. “Are you angry with me?” 

Now, Bilbo only asked this question to show Fili that it was not the case, and he certainly did not expect the reaction it produced, or the events that followed. Perhaps, if he had known, he would not have said it at all. And then again, perhaps it was exactly the right thing to say. At any rate, say it he did, and then Kili did indeed look him in the face, with an expression of such incredulity that it was almost comical.

“Angry you?” he said. “No -- no, I not -- I can not angry you. How I be angry you? Can not angry you.”

Having said this, he ducked his head sharply and clasped his hands around his knees, as if trying to prevent them from doing something else. Bilbo, taken aback by this vehement outburst, glanced at Fili, only to see he was looking just as perplexed. And now there was quite the dilemma, for it was not clear to Bilbo whether the best thing would be to continue his line of questioning and dig out the cause of Kili’s withdrawal, or to try to help him understand that it was perfectly permitted for him to be angry with anyone he chose. But it seemed to Bilbo that this vigorous denial of even the capability for anger had rather too much in common with Kili’s refusal of the possibility of having ideas a few days before, and this was surely a more pressing problem than a passing dark mood. And so he settled himself more comfortably in his chair and reached out to touch Kili’s arm.

“You certainly can be angry with me, if I have done something to warrant it,” he said. “You can be angry with anyone -- with me, or with Fili, or with your uncle -- perhaps most especially with your uncle, since he is so very good at occasioning it.” He paused, but Kili did not lift his head or show any sign that he had heard what Bilbo had said. “Did you understand me, lad?” Bilbo asked. “You can be angry with whoever has done something to deserve it.”

Kili did say something then, but he kept his head down and spoke so quietly that all Bilbo heard was a low muttering. Sighing, Bilbo reached out and took Kili’s chin with his fingers, lifting it until their eyes were of a level. Even then, though, Kili did not look at him, but kept his eyes on the floor.

“What did you say?” Bilbo asked. “I cannot hear you when you have all that hair over your face."

“You not want hear,” Kili muttered, determinedly looking at his knees.

“I most certainly do,” Bilbo replied. “Come, now, tell me what it is.”

Kili hesitated, then seemed to try to duck his head again, although the movement was prevented by Bilbo’s firm grasp on his chin. “ _Snaga_ can not be angry master,” he said.

These words, though spoken in a voice so quiet it was barely audible, struck Bilbo like a blow. He gaped at Kili, then turned to Fili for assistance, only to find that his own horror and revulsion were mirrored on his friend’s face. Bilbo turned back, seizing Kili by the arm, which of course meant letting go of his chin. The moment he did this, Kili’s head dropped, and he curled rapidly into himself, and surely would have drawn his legs up in front of him if it had not meant pushing Bilbo out of the way.

“But you are not a _snaga_ ,” Bilbo said, shaking Kili’s arm a little. “Kili, you know this. You know it. You are not a _snaga_ , and I am certainly not -- I am not --” And here the words turned to ash on his tongue, for he had never, not once, considered that Kili might think of him as a master, him, Bilbo Baggins, a silly little hobbit who could no more be master to a slave than he could grow wings and fly away. But now to hear Kili speak this way, after everything, after all these months-- No, he could not even countenance it. “Kili,” he said again. “Kili, you know this.”

Kili did not respond to this plea, remaining curled over and withdrawn. Fili, after an alarmed glance at Bilbo, took hold of his brother’s other arm, and seemed as though he wished to put his arm around him, though he did not do so. “You are not a _snaga_ ,” he said. “You are not a _snaga_ , my brother. Please.”

It was this last word, or perhaps the odd, high note in Fili’s voice when he said it, that finally brought forth a response from Kili. He glanced up, first at Fili, then at Bilbo, and shook his head.

“I not know what you want,” he said. “I not know.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked.

For a moment, he thought that Kili would refuse to answer, but at last the little dwarf lifted his head a little, though he still seemed most uneasy, and would only look at Bilbo for a short time before dropping his eyes. 

“You say want I choose,” he said. “You say this. I should choose. It is not _snaga_. _Snaga_ not choose. But you say want. Want I not _snaga_. You say this.”

“I said that, indeed,” Bilbo said. “I have never wanted you to be a _snaga_. You know that.” He looked at Fili, hoping for support, but Fili was only staring at his brother, and was no use at all.

“You say -- say,” Kili said, and then seemed to run out of words. He shook his head. “You ask me, I want go pantry. I say -- say no. Not like, not want. But you want I go. You say I go.” 

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Oh, well, you see, I thought -- your brother and I thought -- that maybe you would enjoy it in there. We only wanted you to go because we thought you would enjoy it, you see?” But even as he said it, it became obvious to him that it did not really matter whether Kili had been telling the whole truth when he said he did not want to go into the pantry -- the fact was that he had expressed a preference, and Bilbo had ignored it, despite all his urging for Kili to make his own choice. A great sense of frustration and guilt rose up in Bilbo then, for of course he had only been doing his best to make his friend happy, and yet it seemed he had caused more problems than he had solved.

But there was more to come. Kili was shaking his head again. “You say choose,” he said. “You say choose, but I choose, and it is wrong. I choose wrong. I not understand.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to try again to explain, but it seemed that Kili had not finished. “You -- you find me, in pantry,” he said. “You are long time, long time find. You say it is -- long time guess, guess wrong room first. But it is not this. Know it is not this. Always go same room, always, always. It is not long time guess. You know room. Should know. But you say long time guess. And -- and say play game, but it is not game. Fili not play. It is not game. You say me wrong. Say me not true. You want I choose, but say me not true. How I can choose, how I can be not _snaga_ , you not say me true?”

“Well, I--” Bilbo spluttered, “yes, it is true that -- I certainly did not -- I only said that to you because I thought you were enjoying being in the pantry, my lad. I did not mean to mislead you.” He was beginning to feel rather like he had stepped into a terrible trap, and he could see no way to defend himself, although for the life of him he could not quite understand what he had done wrong, either. And what was worse, Fili was beginning to scowl, and although he was still staring at his brother, Bilbo knew that the scowl was meant for someone else entirely.

“It is not enjoy, not enjoy,” Kili said. “It is you say I choose. I should choose. But you not -- not let me choose. I not understand, hobbit. You want I _snaga_ , you want I not _snaga_?” 

Bilbo found his mouth dropping open for the second time that day. This time, he could find no words at all, and Kili stared at him anxiously.

“You not angry,” he said. “I only ask, only want know. You not angry. You want _snaga_ , I can _snaga_. I do this. You want, I do. Only say me. You want I _snaga_?”

On hearing this -- this dreadful offer of willing enslavement, this offer that went against everything that Bilbo had worked so hard to teach Kili for so many months -- all the unease and frustration and sense of being unfairly treated that Bilbo had been suffering for the past few days seem to churn together in Bilbo’s gut to produce a great maelstrom of unpleasant emotions. Unfortunately, as is so often the case when strong negative feelings are thus mixed, the first thing that bubbled to the surface was anger.

“Of course I do not want you to be a _snaga_!” he cried, not caring to hide the sharpness in his tone. “You are being very unfair, very unfair indeed. I have never wanted that, as you know very well, for I have told you and told you and told you again, until I am blue in the face and there is no breath left in my body! Why, if a few little white lies is all it takes after everything for you to think that way, then perhaps this is all hopeless and you will never learn not to be a _snaga_ after all!”

As soon as these last words had left Bilbo’s mouth, he wished to call them back. But what is once spoken is spoken forever, and he had little time for regret, in the event, for Fili shot to his feet, seizing Bilbo by the arm and hauling him out of his chair. 

“Out,” he growled, shoving Bilbo towards the kitchen. But Bilbo had had quite enough of being pushed around by Fili, and he was still hurt and angry and, somewhere beneath it all, feeling very guilty indeed, and he stood his ground and folded his arms.

“This is my hobbit hole, master dwarf,” he said. “I am not going anywhere.”

Fili loomed over him, mouth set in a furious line. But Bilbo had stared down Thorin Oakenshield, and Fili, full of rage though he might be, was no match for his uncle. He stood firm, and after a moment, Fili turned sharply away.

“Then we will leave,” he said, grabbing Kili’s arm and pulling him to his feet. Bilbo opened his mouth to tell him not to be so ridiculous, but Fili was already halfway across the room, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of Kili’s panicked face as he looked back before the door slammed behind them. A moment later, the front door opened and closed, and then there was silence. 

Bilbo stared at the space where his friends had been not a moment before and tried to understand what on earth had happened that they were now gone. A moment later, filled with apprehension, he ran to the front door and threw it open, meaning to call them back. But the hillside was empty. Not a breath of wind stirred the chilly air, and no-one walked abroad, neither dwarves nor hobbits.

They were gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this story is rapidly growing out of control. Those dwarves just will not stop spilling their emotional guts all over the place. I am giving up the business of prognosticating fic length entirely.

It was the longest afternoon that Bilbo could remember. At first, he was simply angry, and stamped up and down his hobbit hole, feeling entirely hard done-by. But when an hour passed and the dwarves did not come back, a nervous worry began to seep into his stomach, and mix itself with his anger, so that he found himself going every few minutes to the window or the door to see if he could see them returning. When lunchtime came and went, and there was still no sign, Bilbo’s anger drained away entirely, leaving him only worried and rather guilty. He found he could not settle to any task, not even cleaning, which was usually the activity he took up to soothe himself when he was upset or angry. Bag End seemed inordinately quiet, as if even his footsteps were being swallowed up by silence, and he took to talking to himself and did not care in the least if it made him look mad.

“But they will certainly come back soon,” he said to himself, peering once more out of the front door. “Before afternoon tea, I should think. They will get hungry, after all.”

But they did not come back before afternoon tea. Bilbo set out three plates and three cups, and quite a mountain of cake and really far more tea than even a whole party of hobbits might require, and sat nervously on the edge of his chair waiting, for he felt it would be quite rude to begin without his guests. Every minute or so, he would rise and look out of the window. But no dwarves appeared, and at last, after picking at a slice of cake so slender it would have caused Bilbo’s mother to grow light-headed, he put all the tea things away again and stood anxiously in the middle of the living room.

“Fili will not stay away overnight,” he said. “I’m quite sure of it. Why, surely he cannot be so very angry with me? It was only a foolish mistake, after all.”

He made for the door, but paused, coat in hand, before opening it. It was perhaps the sixth time he had performed this very action since the dwarves had left, and every time he was checked by the unpleasant idea that if he went out to look for his friends and they came back while he was gone, Fili might simply pack up all their things and leave all together, without so much as a goodbye. No matter how many times he assured himself that Fili would never do such a thing, no matter how angry he might be, he had nonetheless not yet been able to find the courage to step out of the door in search of his friends. And so, he hung his coat back on the peg once again and resumed his anxious wandering to and fro and his talking to himself.

“It is quite ridiculous to be so concerned,” he said. “After all, they have been out for much longer than this before.” 

And this was true indeed, for from time to time Fili took his brother on some great perambulation around the less populated parts of the countryside, and the two of them inevitably returned covered in mud and with twigs in their hair, Fili in the greatest of spirits and Kili, if not obviously so, then at least very content. Once, they had been gone from dawn until just after sunset, and Bilbo had been only mildly concerned, for between the two of them they certainly had enough common sense not to get into any serious scrapes.

Now, though, Fili was angry and Kili confused, and what did that mean for their common sense? Ah, to be sure, they were only in the Shire, and few places are safer. But all the same, there were rivers and lakes, steep hillsides and perhaps even the occasional wild beast -- oh! No, it would not do at all to dwell on such things. No, they were perfectly all right and would come home directly, certainly before dinner.

“And that’s all there is to it,” Bilbo said, but although he had intended the words to be firm and decisive, in the emptiness of the still hobbit hole they sounded oddly forlorn.

\----

By the time dinnertime was approaching, dusk had fallen, and Bilbo was quite beside himself. He did not even trouble himself to prepare the food or set the table, but only stood in the living room, staring out of the window and debating furiously with himself whether he should go out and enlist the help of his neighbours to try and find his vanished friends. The temperature -- already rather low -- was dropping fast now that the sun had set, and he was sure there would be a frost that night. And those wretched dwarves had not even taken their coats with them! They certainly could not spend the night outside, no matter how angry Fili was.

It was this last thought -- and an image of Fili and Kili shivering, coatless, on the frosty ground -- that had Bilbo at last decided, and he hurried into the hallway and reached for his own coat, only to be startled half out of his wits by a heavy knock on the door. It was the first loud noise that Bilbo had heard all afternoon, and it seemed his ears had grown used to the quiet, for he started violently and even let out a little cry of surprise. But he quickly pulled himself together, and turned, heart thundering in his chest, to the door, pulling it open sharply. And there, on the other side, stood Fili and Kili, the first blank-faced, the second invisible beneath his hair. 

Bilbo almost sagged against the doorframe, so relieved was he. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, my dear friends, it is you. Thank goodness! I was beginning to grow quite concerned.” He stepped out of the doorway to let them come in. “But you know you do not have to knock.”

“I did not want to presume,” Fili said, rather stiffly, and Bilbo understood immediately that their return did not mean that the quarrel was forgotten. His heart sank -- for he, in his worry and subsequent relief, had long since given up being angry or thinking about his grievances -- but he took another step back and gestured firmly for them to pass him.

“It is no presumption,” he said. “No presumption at all. You never have to knock, regardless of --” and here he stopped, for he had no wish to bring up what had happened. 

Fili gave him a long stare, his face unreadable, then took Kili by the elbow and led him in through the hall to the living room. Bilbo closed the door -- shivering a little, for there was an icy wind blowing outside -- and hurried after them. For a moment, all three stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room floor, and then, since Fili showed no sign of taking charge of the situation and Kili was incapable of doing so, Bilbo spoke up.

“You must both be rather cold,” he said. “And hungry too, I’ve no doubt. Fili, why don’t you go and get the fire started for dinner in the kitchen? I will be with you in a moment, once I have -- spoken to your brother.”

Fili made no move to follow Bilbo’s instructions. “Spoken?” he said.

Bilbo sighed. “Apologised,” he said, and gestured again towards the kitchen. “If you please, master dwarf.” 

Fili stared at him for a moment, then nodded and turned away, stumping off to the kitchen and closing the door most of the way behind him. Bilbo watched him go, rather dreading the conversation he knew would have to occur between them soon, and then put it from his mind and turned to Kili.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he said. “Come, bring your chair closer to the fire.” He touched Kili’s arms to propel him into the chair and grimaced at how cold the fabric of his tunic felt. “Did you understand me?” he asked, watching as Kili sank into his chair. “Closer to the fire, my lad. Come along, you will catch your death.”

Kili sat silent for a moment -- and Bilbo felt rather disconcerted, as always, by the strange facelessness of him when he was thus hidden behind his hair -- but then he pulled his chair forward a short distance. Bilbo nodded, satisfied for now, and pulled up his own chair, touching Kili’s knee to gain his attention.

“I am glad you came back,” he said. “And I am terribly sorry for what I said to you. It was cruel and thoughtless, and I certainly did not mean a word of it.” He waited a moment, but Kili did not respond, not even to come out from behind his hair. Bilbo sighed. “Did you understand me, my lad?” he said. “I did not mean any of it. Are you listening?” He reached out to brush Kili’s hair away from his face himself, and then froze, for it seemed to him that Kili flinched away from him. It was only the slightest of movements, to be sure, but still -- but still.

“I am not -- I am not angry with you,” Bilbo said quickly, remembering that his last words to Kili, in addition to being hurtful, had been delivered in a snappish tone. “Come now, my lad, there is no need to be afraid. You are not afraid of me, are you, Kili? I am not angry, and I would never punish you. Never.”

Kili made another small movement, then, but this time, Bilbo was looking more closely, and he saw that it was not a flinch, but rather a movement of the hand, as if the little dwarf wanted to reach up or out but did not quite dare to do so. Bilbo, his own hand still outstretched towards Kili’s face, frowned a moment, considering. Then he lowered his arm a little, putting it within easy reach of Kili.

“Did you want--?” he asked, and then found himself not quite sure how to phrase his question. But there was no need, for after a brief hesitation, Kili had reached up and tangled his fingers into Bilbo’s sleeve. He twisted it so tightly that it must have been painful for him, and Bilbo drew a breath and reached slowly out with his other hand, brushing Kili’s hair away from his face. Kili did not resist, and when his face was at last revealed, it turned out he was staring at Bilbo as if he was afraid he might vanish at any moment. And now Bilbo thought he understood at least part of what was going through the little dwarf’s mind.

“Your brother was always going to bring you back, you know,” Bilbo said, putting his free hand over Kili’s where it clutched at his sleeve. “It was only a little quarrel we had. You know he would not take you away for good, don’t you?”

Kili swallowed and nodded, though he still did not speak. Bilbo stroked his hand a little.

“Still, I am very glad you came back when you did,” he said. “I should not have liked you to miss dinner as well as lunch.”

“I am as well glad,” Kili whispered. Bilbo, relieved to hear his voice at last, smiled at him.

“Well, we are all together again now,” he said. “But you are still very cold. You must warm yourself at the fire, and I will go and talk to your brother for a little while.” 

He made as if to stand, but Kili only tightened his grip on his sleeve. Bilbo sat down again and patted his hand.

“I won’t be long at all,” he said. “I promise! And then I will sit right here beside you all evening, if that’s what you want.”

This did not have the desired effect on Kili, and Bilbo frowned a little and patted him again.

“I need you to let go of me, my lad,” he said. “I must go and talk to your brother.”

Kili shook his head. “You fight Fili?”

“Fight him?” Bilbo said, with some incredulity. “No, I certainly will not fight him.”

Kili looked away, then. “He is angry you,” he said. “You are angry him.”

“Well -- yes,” Bilbo admitted. “Yes, it is true we have had something of a falling-out. But that doesn’t mean we will fight each other! Why, if nothing else, I am not nearly so foolish as to start a fight with a grown dwarf, since I should most certainly lose.”

“Yes,” Kili said, fixing Bilbo with his gaze again and nodding solemnly. “You fight Fili, you lose. Fili hurt you. You should not fight.”

Bilbo found himself a little taken aback by this. “Is that what you think?” he asked. “You think your brother will hurt me?”

Kili looked away again. “He is angry,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Yes, he is angry -- he is angry with me because of what I said to you. But he would never hurt me. He would never fight me -- why, even if I tried to fight him, I’m sure he would only ignore me until I gave up. Come now, Kili.” He touched Kili’s knee. “You do not truly believe your brother would hurt me, do you?”

Kili looked most unhappy, but after a moment or two, he shook his head. “No, I know he not hurt,” he muttered. “But -- it is not good, he is angry you. It is not good.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s very good, either,” Bilbo said. “That is why I’m going to talk to him. And -- well, we may get into an argument, I suppose, though I hope we do not. But I think I am quite practised at arguing with dwarves, and so I am much less likely to suffer serious injury from that.” He smiled at Kili, who sat watching him carefully.

“You not fight,” he said.

“That’s right,” Bilbo said. “We may argue, but we will not fight, I promise. So perhaps you will let me go now.” And he tugged a little against Kili’s grasp on his sleeve. After a brief moment when Kili tightened his grip still further, he looked away sharply and let go. Bilbo patted his shoulder and stood up.

“You concentrate on getting yourself warm,” he said. “I will be back very soon.” 

And, having solved at least his immediate problems with Kili, he turned towards the kitchen and heaved a sigh. Somehow, he thought Fili would be much less easy to mollify.

\----

Fili was seated at the kitchen table peeling potatoes with peculiar violence when Bilbo slipped through the door and closed it behind him. He looked up at the sound of it and gave Bilbo a rather blank stare, as if he had forgotten who he was or why he was there. Then he frowned.

“Have you apologised, then?”

“I have,” Bilbo said, feeling rather unsure of himself. 

“And did he accept your apology?” Fili asked.

Bilbo sighed, sitting down opposite Fili. “I rather suspect he did not really notice it,” he said. “He seemed to have -- other things on his mind.”

Fili’s mouth tightened at this, and he set his half-peeled potato down, glaring at it as if it had mortally offended him.

“He didn’t want to come back here,” he said. 

Bilbo, who had been bracing himself for a verbal assault of quite a different kind, stared at Fili in astonishment. “What?” he said. “But -- why not?” Kili had seemed so very relieved to see him, after all.

“He--” Fili said, and then stabbed his short peeling knife suddenly into the potato, leaving it quivering there. “He was worried I would harm you in some way,” he growled, seeming to be talking more to the massacred potato than to Bilbo himself.

“Ah,” said Bilbo, and restrained himself from mentioning that a person who did not wish to give the impression of having a violent nature might be advised to be a little more circumspect in his treatment of root vegetables. “Well, I’m sure you have set him right, and he does not think that any more.” He decided not to mention Kili’s words to him in the living room, for fear they would only make matters worse. 

Fili, though, did not seem comforted in the least, and stared morosely down at the table, his countenance filled with nothing but gloom. “Have I been so terrible to you, then?” he asked, and then suddenly looked up at Bilbo with a worried frown. “Have I been such an ogre that my own brother fears I will deal violence to you?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to assure Fili that he had certainly done no such thing, but then paused, for as much as he was a kind little hobbit, nonetheless he still felt as though he had been rather ill-treated by Fili. “Well, I will not say that you have been -- very pleasant towards me,” he said.

Fili’s face fell further. “But you have never thought -- Bilbo, you cannot think I would ever raise a hand to you?”

“Certainly not!” Bilbo said hastily (although in his heart of hearts he did suspect that Fili could be driven to such an act, if it were to protect his brother, and he blamed him for it not at all). “And in truth, I do not think that Kili believes such a thing, either. It is only that he has seen so much violence in his life, and it is hard sometimes for him to remember that those days are past and gone, and that you and I are not at all like orcs.”

Fili’s mouth was still twisted in an unhappy frown, but after a moment, he nodded. “Then I should apologise,” he said. “If I have been unkind, then I am sorry for it. But what you said--”

“Ah! what I said,” Bilbo said. “You cannot be sorrier than I am, my dear friend. And certainly I did not mean a word of it, as I have told Kili. It was nothing more than a moment of foolishness and ill temper -- and I hope you, of all people, might have some experience in forgiving foolishness and ill temper.”

Fili smiled a little at this, though he still seemed quite downhearted. Bilbo reached across the table and patted his arm.

“I am very glad you came back,” he said. “But then, if Kili did not want to come, why did you bring him?”

A shadow crossed Fili’s face, then, and when he spoke he did not look at Bilbo, but seemed to be staring at nothing. “I could barely get a word out of him,” he said. “It took hours for me to understand that he was afraid I might -- might hurt you.” He frowned. “It is so hard to see his face with his hair all across it, but I thought -- I thought I saw his eyes wandering.” He shook his head and looked up at Bilbo. “I had to bring him back,” he said. “I should never have taken him away.”

Bilbo felt rather cold. He had not seen Kili’s eyes wandering since he had woken up after being half-drowned in the river, and although the little scene earlier and its aftermath had been unpleasant, it had not occurred to him that it might cause such great upset to the little dwarf. “Perhaps you only imagined it?” he suggested.

“I hope you are right,” Fili said, but he did not look as though he really thought Bilbo might be. 

“Well, I suppose he was worried because we argued with each other,” Bilbo said slowly. “And he thought maybe you would not bring him back. But you have brought him back.”

“Aye,” Fili said. “And we have made up our argument.”

“Well, then!” Bilbo said. “There is nothing left to upset him, and everything will be quite all right. Come, enough of that dour face. Let’s go and show your brother that we have not murdered each other.” And he rose from his seat and went to open the kitchen door. It was so rarely closed that the hinges were a little stiff, and Bilbo had to wrestle with it for a moment before it swung open to reveal Kili on the other side, sitting up very straight in his chair and watching the door with what appeared to be no small anxiety. When Fili stepped up to stand behind Bilbo in the doorway, some of this tension seemed to drain away -- but by no means all.

“Hello again, my lad,” Bilbo said. “Your brother and I are quite reconciled, as you can see. Why, we barely even argued at all!”

Kili glanced from Bilbo to Fili, as if he was not entirely convinced. Fili took Bilbo’s arm and led him into the living room, and then -- rather to Bilbo’s surprise -- gave him a swift hug.

“Do you see?” he said to Kili. “I am not angry with him at all. And he is not angry with me. And I did not hurt him, my brother. I would not hurt him.” 

This last he said in a voice that might almost be described as plaintive, had it not issued from the mouth of a well-armed dwarf of such impressive pedigree. Bilbo patted Fili’s arm and pushed him towards his chair, then said down himself and smiled at Kili.

“Do you understand?” he said. 

Kili watched him for a moment, still looking tense indeed. “Yes,” he said. “Fili is still not angry.”

“He is not angry _any more_ ,” Bilbo said. “And I am not angry any more, either. It is all forgotten.”

“Not any more,” Kili repeated. But it seemed to Bilbo that, whatever he might claim, Kili would not forget their anger for a long time.

\----

That evening passed very quietly (though not, it must be said, as quietly as the afternoon had). There was dinner, and then supper, of course, and through it all Kili kept his head down and spoke barely a word, and seemed still to be in a state of great nervousness, though Bilbo supposed that was only to be expected after the events of the day. Although every time he glanced over, Kili was looking at the floor, still, Bilbo could not rid himself of the feeling of being watched, and although he was long accustomed to being the object of his friend’s unusually intense attention, nonetheless he began to grow rather nervous himself, knowing that Kili was looking at him and yet not being able to see him do it. Eventually, he sat down beside Kili and prodded his arm -- though he did this more out of habit than to get his attention, for after all, he had had that all evening.

“Is something the matter?” he asked. “You are very--” He paused, not sure quite how to describe Kili’s behaviour. He was anxious, certainly, and tense, but that was not what had prompted Bilbo to ask the question. _Disconcerting_ was perhaps the closest word, and yet Bilbo did not wish to use it, at least to his face.

“Nothing is matter,” Kili said to the floor. Bilbo sighed.

“I know this has been a rather difficult day,” he said, “but it is over now. You must try to put it out of your mind.”

Kili did not reply to this, but there was no lessening of the tension in his shoulders. Bilbo exchanged a troubled glance with Fili, and then, remembering what had happened earlier in the evening, he laid his forearm on the arm of Kili’s chair. 

“Well, I’ll just sit here and read, then,” he said, and took up his book with his other hand. He stared at it firmly, and did not look at Kili, even when, a minute or two later, he felt a tug on his arm as fingers curled into his sleeve. He was quite content to sit and read, after all, and had nowhere in particular to go, and so it did not matter to him if Kili wished to keep him close by until they all went to bed. 

And as it turned out, he did.

\----

Bilbo felt quite exhausted by the time he finally fell into bed, and fell asleep almost before he was quite lying down. He dreamed of nothing at all, and if he had slept until morning, he would no doubt have arisen feeling refreshed and ready to face the challenges of the day. But it was not to be, for in the middle of the night a great _crash_ invaded his dreamless slumber, and had him sitting bolt upright in bed, looking around in great confusion to see what the cause of the noise could be. The room was black as pitch, though, and it took him a moment or two of fumbling to light his lamp, during which time he heard thumps and scuffling that made him nervous indeed. 

When he finally succeeded, he discovered that the little table that sat beside the dwarves’ bed had been knocked to the floor, spilling books and pictures everywhere, and breaking the lamp that had stood there, so that a pool of oil was now spreading across the floor. The cause of the upset, too, was readily apparent: Kili was scrambling backwards, spider-like, his eyes wide with terror and his face bathed in sweat, and Fili, looking bleary and confused, was kneeling beside the bed, reaching out towards him.

“Kili,” Fili said, sounding still half-asleep. “What’s the matter? Come back to bed.”

Kili, though, looked straight through his brother, staring at something invisible in the corner. His mouth gaped soundlessly in desperate fear, and Bilbo felt his heart twist within him.

“Kili, lad,” he called softly, climbing out of bed and taking a slow step forward. “Wake up. Wake up, my lad, it’s only a dream.”

Kili’s eyes fixed on him, and for a moment Bilbo thought he had indeed woken up, but then his face twisted further and he made a sound that brought tears to Bilbo’s eyes, for it could signify naught but the deepest despair.

“Kili,” Fili said again, edging closer to his brother, where he pressed himself, shaking and twitching, into the corner. “Kili, time to wake up. Time to wake up, now, brother.”

Bilbo shuffled a little closer, too, before lowering himself to his knees and reaching out. But Kili flinched away from him and huddled into himself, fingers scrabbling at the floor and eyes rolling wildly.

“It’s me,” Bilbo said. “It’s only me, your hobbit friend. You’re dreaming. You’re only dreaming, my dear lad.”

In the meantime, Fili had almost reached Kili, and now stretched out and laid a hand on his arm. Kili started, but did not pull away. Nor did he look at Fili, but kept his eyes fixed on Bilbo. Still, Bilbo could not help but see it as a sign that Kili was beginning to wake, and he moved forward again, only to see Kili try to dart away from the corner in the opposite direction. Of course, he ran straight into his brother, who wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to his chest.

“It’s Bilbo,” he murmured into Kili’s hair. “It’s just your hobbit, my brother. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Kili did not struggle in Fili’s grasp -- indeed, he raised his hands to Fili’s chest and clutched at his shirt-front -- but nor did he seem to calm, either. Indeed, he had begun to breathe in an uneven, shallow fashion that had Bilbo worried indeed.

“Come now,” he said, still on his knees, but no longer daring to move forward. “You must try to calm down. You will do yourself an injury.”

This had no effect at all on Kili, who shivered and gasped in Fili’s arms, and seemed incapable of speech, and perhaps also of understanding. Whether he was awake or asleep, Bilbo could not tell. But one thing was clear indeed: he was frightened out of his wits.

“Kili,” Fili said then, his voice a note deeper than it had been before. “Bilbo is right. You must stop this.” And he seized Kili’s face between his two hands and forced him to turn his head to face him. “Stop,” he said. “You must stop. You must breathe.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Kili had stopped breathing all together, for he stopped gasping and only gaped at Fili, his mouth hanging open. Then Fili shook him a little.

“Breathe, my brother,” he said. 

And Kili did. It was a sobbing, wheezing sort of breath, to be sure, but breath it was, and deep enough to be called so, though still a little uneven. Bilbo found himself breathing in time with Kili, almost as if trying to encourage him, and Fili pressed his forehead against his brother’s and closed his eyes.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “That’s right. You’re awake now. You’re awake.”

Bilbo, hoping that the worst was over, shuffled forward again, and was relieved to find that Kili did not flinch from him, though he did not look at him, either, for his attention was entirely fixed on Fili now. Or so Bilbo thought, until he came within arm’s reach and Kili’s hand shot out and clamped around his wrist.

“Hobbit,” he whispered, looking sideways at Bilbo. “I tell you thing.”

“Of course you can,” Bilbo said, though he was a little discombobulated at the abruptness of Kili’s request. “What do you want to tell me?”

Fili let Kili’s face go, and Kili turned to look at Bilbo. But, although he opened his mouth, no sound proceeded from it, and after a moment he began to look panicked once again.

“Well, why don’t I make us all a nice cup of tea,” Bilbo said hastily, patting his arm. “Then, when we’ve all had a chance to calm down, you can tell me what it is. How does that sound?”

Kili only stared, his mouth still hanging open. Bilbo found himself quite unsure what to do, but Fili seemed to suffer no such difficulty

“It’s time to let Bilbo go now,” he said, gently unpinning Kili’s fingers from Bilbo’s wrist. Kili made no resistance, and when his grip was loosened entirely, Fili gathered him back into his arms and held him tightly. Kili did not return the embrace, and seemed stiff and tense, but he breathed more easily again, and the terror that had begun to seep back into his face slipped away. 

Bilbo rose to his feet. “Well, then,” he said. “Tea.”

And without another word, he fled.

\----

It was some time before they all found themselves settled in the living room. Bilbo made far more tea than was strictly necessary, and then found himself drinking quite a quantity of it before Fili and Kili finally made their appearance. Fili looked dishevelled, his face set with grim concern. Kili, though his shaking had subsided, seemed smaller than he truly was, and walked with halting steps, as if the only thing propelling him forwards was his brother’s hand on his elbow. Bilbo, observing this, felt his heart sink. It seemed they were unlikely to sleep again that night. 

“Here, then,” he said, patting Kili’s chair and setting a cup of his blackberry tea on a little table beside it. He waited until Kili had settled himself, and Fili beside him, as always, and then drew up his own chair to sit facing him.

“Well,” he said, feeling rather nervous. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

Kili stared at the floor, and Bilbo thought that he would not speak at all. He was considering whether it would be better to try and coax the words out of him, or to have them all go back to bed and begin again in the morning, when Kili’s gaze landed on his feet, then crawled up his legs and finally reached his chest. There it stopped, but it was a great improvement, and a moment later, Kili’s announcement made its appearance.

“I know you not want I am _snaga_ ,” he said, hesitantly and very carefully, as if he was thinking hard about each word before he said it.

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Is that what you wanted to tell me? Well, that is good, very good! I am very glad.” And he felt a great wave of relief, for he had been sure that it would be something much more unpleasant.

“I know,” Kili said again. “I always knowed. Knew. I always knew.” He glanced up at Bilbo’s face, and there was such great apprehension in his eyes that Bilbo felt his relief curdle in his stomach, for it was clear that there was something here he did not understand at all.

“Yes,” he said, exchanging a mystified glance with Fili. “Well, that is very good. After all, I have told you often enough, so of course you know.”

But this reply, though it was nothing but gentle reassurance, had a most undesirable effect on Kili. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but only gave a gasping breath, much as he had after his nightmare. Bilbo, immediately alarmed, leaned forward and grasped his hand in both of his own, while Fili put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

“Now, don’t do that,” Bilbo said. “There is nothing to be frightened of. Breathe deeper, lad, come on.” He pressed Kili’s hand and breathed deeply himself, and Fili murmured something in Kili’s ear that Bilbo could not hear, and a moment or two later, Kili seemed mostly recovered, though he again dropped his eyes to the floor. But if he needed to look in that direction in order to explain whatever it was that he wanted to explain, well, Bilbo did not mind that at all. 

“But perhaps this should wait,” he said. “We are all tired and upset. Perhaps it should wait until morning.”

Kili shook his head rapidly, though he did not look up. “I tell,” he said. “I tell, I tell.” He seemed half-hysterical, but it was clear that whatever it was was weighing heavily on his mind, so that Bilbo, after a brief, wordless exchange with Fili, nodded his head.

“Well, then, breathe deeply and start from the beginning,” he said. “And remember that you are safe here, and that there is nothing at all to be afraid of.”

Kili drew in a deep breath, then another, and seemed to calm a little. Still, there was a long, tense silence before he spoke again, and Bilbo found himself having to bite his tongue to prevent himself from breaking it out of sheer nervousness. 

But at last, Kili spoke. “Orcs,” he said. “With orcs, _snaga_ \--” He frowned at the floor. “ _Snaga_ is not -- _snaga_ is--” He shook his head. “Orc not tell _snaga_ ,” he decided. “Not tell _snaga_ true. Not tell _snaga_ not true. Orcs not tell _snaga_.” 

He paused, and Bilbo wondered if he should say something, although in truth he did not understand enough of what Kili had said to make an intelligent comment. But just as he was opening his mouth, Kili started again.

“ _Snaga_ is like -- is like warg,” he said. “Or horse. Not say horse where we are go. Not say horse why go there. Why tell horse? Horse cannot understand. Horse not have -- have --” He pressed the fingertips of his free hand against his temple and frowned fiercely at the floor. “Not have mind,” he said. “Not like person mind. Orcs not tell horse we go here because -- because big master want -- want we give message to -- other orcs. Not tell horse anything. Not tell _snaga_ anything. _Snaga_ is like horse. Not have, have mind.”

Bilbo could not help but open his mouth to protest this, but Kili glanced quickly up at him and shook his head.

“I know it is not right,” he said. “ _Snaga_ have mind. But orcs not tell. Not tell true, not tell not true. For orcs, _snaga_ is like horse. You understand.”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, rather croakily. “I understand.”

“Yes,” Kili replied, staring at Bilbo’s knees. “And -- and you. Fili stole me. And you. You always say. You say me, we go here. We go mountain. We go lake. Go town, men in it. We need get clothes, get weapons. I go away. Men come. You say these things me. Always say.” He nodded. “It is -- not like _snaga_. It feel like --” He touched his chest with his free hand. “It feel like -- like when iron is gone. You say, not _snaga_ , not _snaga_. I hear. But this. You say me what happen, why happen. I feel it. Feel not _snaga_. You understand?”

“I think so,” Bilbo said. “My treating you like a person made you feel like more of a person.” He thought back to those times on their long journey, of the things he had said and done. If he had known half as much about Kili then as he knew now, why, he might have done things differently indeed. But it seemed that this thing, at least, had made a real difference to his friend, and the thought gave him a warm sort of feeling in his chest.

“Yes, it is this,” Kili said. “Person, yes. You think I should know what happen. It is like be person.” He stopped, then, seeming to gather his thoughts, and his hand twitched a little in Bilbo’s. “When you say -- when you say long time guess,” he said, his voice getting a little quieter, “you say this, it is -- I know it is not true. I hear this, I know. It is not what happen. You not think any more I should know what happen. It feel -- I feel -- it is not --”

“I made you feel like a _snaga_ ,” Bilbo said, suddenly understanding why Kili had told his halting story in the first place. “When I did not explain to you why we were playing the game, I made you feel like a _snaga_.” He felt rather sick to think it, that in one casual breath he could have undermined so much hard work and careful piecing together of Kili’s sense of himself. “Oh, my dear lad, I am so sorry to have done such a thing.”

But Kili was shaking his head. “No, it is not this,” he said, and his hand began to twitch again. “It is -- I am --” He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly for a moment, and then, to Bilbo’s surprise, pulled his hand free and slipped from the chair onto the floor, where he knelt and reached up for his cup of tea, placing it on the floor to his left and then frowning at the space to the right.

“Here, my brother,” Fili said, holding his own cup out.

“Thank you Fili,” Kili muttered, and took the cup, setting it to his right. Then he pointed.

“This is be _snaga_ ,” he said, pointing at the cup on his left. “This is be person.” This was the cup on his right. “It is not be one, be other. It is go. Go.” He pressed the tip of his index finger to the floor about halfway between the two cups. “I go,” he said, and moved his finger slightly to the right. “Always go, go. This way. I go this way. Slow, very slow.” He glanced up at Bilbo with a pleading expression. “I am sorry so always slow,” he said. “But go this way. This way.” He shook his head then, bending over his little demonstration. “You say long time guess. I not feel like _snaga_. I know I am not _snaga_. But go this way.” And he moved his finger to the left. “I know I am not _snaga_ ,” he repeated. “I know you not want I am _snaga_. But it feel -- it feel bad. It is like pain, but not in flesh. Feel bad.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to apologise once again for his careless words, but then Kili glanced up at him and the words died in his throat, for there was such unexpected fear on Kili’s face that it took his breath away.

“I know you not want,” he said, bowing his head again, and now he spoke very quickly, and his voice became quieter still, so that Bilbo had to lean forward to hear it. “You always say, not want _snaga_ , I know, I know. But I know you feel bad. If you think I am _snaga_ , you feel bad. If I say I not know, you feel bad. It is why I ask. I ask, you want I am _snaga_. I ask this because I know. Because I know you feel bad.”

These last words were almost inaudible, and as Kili spoke them he bowed lower and lower, until he was almost bent double. Bilbo stared at him, quite unable to believe that he had truly understood what Kili had said.

“You mean -- you asked me if I wanted you to be a _snaga_ on purpose because you knew it would hurt my feelings?” he asked, sure that he must be mistaken, so far was this from his understanding of Kili.

“Not want hurt, not want hurt,” Kili whispered, and he pressed his palms flat on the floor and bent even further over, almost pressing his forehead to the floorboards. “Not want Fili angry, hobbit angry. Sorry, so stupid, so stupid.”

Bilbo gaped at him, but Fili, who Bilbo had rather forgotten in all of this, suddenly slid out of the chair and dropped to his knees beside Kili, laying a palm on the nape of his neck. The touch made Kili flinch violently, and Bilbo saw that he was shaking again.

“Do not cower, my brother,” Fili said in the gentlest of tones. “Do not be afraid. Bilbo is not angry with you.”

He glanced up at Bilbo as if to confirm this, and Bilbo realised that what he had said was true -- that Kili was not just curled over, but was abasing himself before Bilbo, as if before some great and terrible king. And this thought was enough to drown out the confusion and hurt of what Kili had done in an instant, so that Bilbo immediately slipped from his own chair and knelt before Kili, bending over himself to try and look into his face. 

“Quite right,” he said, reaching out to brush the mess of hair aside. “I am not angry, and you are not stupid. And you mustn’t lie on the floor like that, it looks most uncomfortable. Not to mention you are no doubt getting dust in your hair.”

Fili barked a rather astonished-sounding laugh at this, but Bilbo paid no attention to him, and reached for Kili’s shoulders, pushing and lifting until Kili rather reluctantly sat up. As soon as he did so, Fili had his arms around him -- rather awkwardly, since he was sitting beside him, and since Kili did not reciprocate, but only stared at Bilbo’s knees. 

“Our hobbit is right, my brother,” Fili said. “It is a terrible thing, dust in one’s hair.”

Bilbo found himself a little surprised at this frivolity, after the painful scene they had just witnessed, and was surprised still more when he saw that Fili was smiling. It was not a tight smile, as of one who is wearing a brave face, but a sincere smile, almost smug, and it broadened further still as he turned to face Bilbo, keeping one arm about Kili’s shoulders.

“Well, Bilbo Baggins,” he said, “it seems my brother will learn how not to be a _snaga_ , after all. Already he learns how to avenge himself like a true dwarf.” 

It was clear that these words were spoken in jest -- and yet, there was a kernel of truth to them, Bilbo realised, that was surely quite intentional on Fili’s part. Indeed, Kili had behaved in an intentionally cruel manner for the first time that Bilbo could remember. And although it was certainly not admirable, was not cruelty of this kind something that required a will of one’s own, and an understanding of how others feel, and a sense of security that any reprisal would be bearable? All of these things were denied to _snagas_ , from what Bilbo understood, and yet here Kili was, exhibiting them with no prompting at all. 

“Well, I’ll be,” Bilbo muttered, and Fili grinned.

“Here, Kili,” he said, leaning forwards and placing his own finger between the two teacups. “This way. You are still going this way.” And he moved his finger to the right. “You are not slow at all.”

But Kili, of course, seemed to understand almost nothing of this, and only kept his head low and his hands clamped over his knees. “I am sorry do this,” he whispered. “I not wanted hobbit angry, Fili angry. I not knew it will do this.”

“I know you did not,” Bilbo said, reaching out to lift Kili’s chin. Kili, though, kept his eyes down, and Bilbo patted his arm with his other hand. “Will you look at me, my lad?” he asked.

With some reluctance, Kili lifted his eyes. He was clearly still greatly afraid, and Bilbo could not help but hug him, and was gratified when he did not flinch away. “It was not a good thing to do,” Bilbo said, “but I am not angry. There will be no punishment. You need not be frightened.”

Kili frowned at this, glancing at Fili. “You not -- I not go away Bag End?” he asked. 

“Certainly not!” Bilbo said. “Why would you think I would send you away?”

Kili began to look most confused. “I said -- not true,” he said. “I said it because to make feel bad. When -- when you said not true because to make feel bad, we go away Bag End. Before when you said, you said I not learn be not _snaga_.” He looked at Fili as if for confirmation. “We go away.”

“That was different, my brother,” Fili said, his smile gone now. “I took you away because I wanted to keep you safe. But I am sorry that I did it, and I will not do it again.”

“And I would never send you away,” Bilbo added firmly. “You are my guest, and my home is yours. And besides, what you did was only a very little thing, really.”

Kili stared at Bilbo, then at Fili, and finally at Bilbo again, looking rather as though he did not quite dare to believe what he had heard. “You not send me go away?” he asked.

“Is that what has been worrying you so much all this time?” Bilbo said, suddenly enlightened. “Oh, my poor dear lad.” And now he hugged Kili again, longer and with more emotion this time. “I will never send you away,” he said, though his voice was rather muffled by Kili’s hair (which was, indeed, full of dust, so that Bilbo decided he must sweep the floor at the very next opportunity).

And where before Kili had been stiff and unresponsive, now he grew suddenly almost limp in Bilbo’s arms, and wrapped his own arms around Bilbo, and rested his chin on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Thank you hobbit,” he whispered. “I am glad not go away.”

“And I am very glad to have you back,” Bilbo replied.

And so he was.


	6. Chapter 6

When, at last, Bilbo had regained enough control over his rather unruly emotions to leave off his embracing of Kili and consider what they might do next, it became clear to him that they all still had a very great deal to talk about. Nonetheless, he was aware that it was late (or rather, early, for it was two hours until dawn), and none of them had had a full night’s sleep, and he knew well that such times are not the most auspicious for difficult conversations. So he stood up, and helped Kili to his feet.

“We should probably all go back to bed,” he said. “Do you think you could sleep, my lad?”

Kili, who still looked anxious and downcast, stared at the floor for a moment and then shook his head. “Bad dream,” he said. “I go bed, yes. You want I should sleep?”

“Not if it will give you nightmares,” Bilbo said. “That is the last thing that I want.”

“I do not think I could sleep, either,” Fili said. “I feel quite awake.”

“Hmph,” replied Bilbo. If he was honest with himself, he did not feel much like sleeping, either -- after all, he had drunk rather a lot of tea -- but it offended his sense of order for them to all be up in the middle of the night. Still, it seemed there was nothing for it. “Well, if no-one will go to bed, that is one thing,” he said, “but if we are up, then it is morning, and if it is morning, then we will have breakfast, no matter how early it is.” And so he patted Kili’s shoulder until the little dwarf sat down in his armchair, and then betook himself to the kitchen.

Breakfast was bacon and eggs, and none of them ate a great deal of it -- Bilbo because he felt nervous and unsettled, and the other two perhaps for the same reasons. Afterwards, Fili built up the fire, and they sat as they had before in the living room, staring at each other and waiting, so it seemed, for someone else to break the silence.

Of course, it was Bilbo who spoke at last. “Now, then,” he said, smiling at Kili, “we have had quite the time of it lately, haven’t we? And I have -- I have done rather a lot of things that perhaps I should not have done -- though I didn’t realise it at the time. But first of all, Kili, I must tell you that I will never send you away. Not ever, no matter what you do. Do you understand?”

Kili, who had been staring at the floor, looked up at him, apparently a little surprised by this opening to their conversation. “If -- if you are angry?” he said.

“Not even if I am incandescent,” Bilbo said, and then, of course, realised that Kili certainly would not understand that. “Or very cross indeed,” he added. “Not even then.”

Kili watched him for a moment, his expression indecipherable. Then he turned to look at Fili. “If you are angry?” he said.

Fili straightened a little in his chair. “I will not take you away if you do not want to go,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I promise I will not. I see now that it does more harm than good.”

“Especially if you go out without your coats,” Bilbo put in. “I don’t want to be rescuing frozen dwarves in the middle of the night, I don’t mind telling you!”

Fili scowled at him, and for a moment, Bilbo thought he had managed to upset the fine balance that they had only just achieved. But then Fili shook his head, and smiled a little, and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“If I do ever try to take you away, Bilbo will come running after us with our coats,” he said, “and then, no doubt, he will insist on coming with us, just as he did when we set out for Erebor, though we tried our hardest to leave him behind. So you see, there is no danger of you being parted.”

“That is not what happened at all!” Bilbo spluttered, feeling quite hard done-by. “I had not the slightest notion of going on adventures until you dratted dwarves dragged me along. Half against my will, I might add!” 

But Fili only laughed quietly at him and threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I would not listen to the hobbit, my brother,” he murmured. “They tell tall tales, from what I’ve heard.”

Kili began to look most confused, and Bilbo took pity on him. “Never mind all that,” he said. “The important thing is that you will not be made to go away if you do not want to. Not by either of us. So, then, do you feel better?”

Kili sat quietly for a moment or two and watched Bilbo intently, then glanced quickly at Fili and nodded once. “Yes,” he said. “It is good. I am glad.”

“Good!” Bilbo said. “Now, I must ask you to promise me something in return.”

Kili straightened a little, all his attention back on Bilbo. He did not speak, and Bilbo, after waiting a moment to see if he would, continued with his request.

“You must promise me that if I ever make you feel like a--” He stopped here and floundered a little, then pointed to the teacups that still sat on the floor. “--like you are going in the wrong direction, you will tell me. Straight away, mind, don’t wait.”

Kili frowned down at the cups and shifted uneasily in his chair. He did not look at Bilbo, nor did he promise, and Bilbo leaned forward and touched his knee.

“Did you understand?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Kili said. 

Bilbo waited, but Kili said nothing more, and at last Bilbo prompted him again. “Can you promise me, then?”

But Kili did not promise. Instead, he frowned a little, and shook his head. 

“It make you feel bad,” he said. 

Bilbo opened his mouth to declare that it certainly would not, but then remembered that it was the very act of his not being entirely honest -- no matter how small and well-meant his untruths had been -- that had precipitated this conversation in the first place. And so he closed his mouth, and rearranged his thoughts, and when he did speak, it was with great care. 

“Yes,” he said, “it might, at that. But Kili, my making you feel as though you are going in the wrong direction hurts your feelings, does it not?”

Kili stared at him. “Hurt?” he said. “It is not hurt.”

“Bilbo does not mean that it hurts your body, my brother,” Fili said. “He means that it hurts your feelings.” He touched Kili’s chest. “Your feelings, here.”

Kili seemed to consider this for a moment. “Feelings,” he said, touching his own chest. “It is like feel.” 

“Yes, it is exactly like that,” Bilbo said. “You feel feelings. That is why they are called so.” He paused a moment to reflect that what he had said sounded mildly ridiculous, but Kili did not seem to care, and so he forged onwards. “If I hurt your feelings, it means I make you feel bad,” he said. “So, then: it hurts your feelings when I make you feel as though you are going in the wrong direction. That’s right, isn’t it? It makes you feel bad?”

Kili nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Feel bad. I hurt -- feelings.”

“Well, then,” Bilbo said, choosing to ignore Kili’s grammatical infelicity. “So it is hardly fair for me to hurt your feelings and you not to tell me for fear of hurting mine, now, is it?”

It seemed to take a moment or two for Kili to unravel this sentence, but when he did, he shook his head. “My feelings -- not important,” he said. 

“What?” Bilbo cried. “Of course your feelings are important! Why would you think they are not?”

Kili looked rather as though he had just realised he had said something he shouldn’t, and he glanced away. “No,” he said. “I -- It is--” But he seemed not to be able to finish this thought -- if, indeed, there had been a thought behind this utterance at all -- and he stuttered a little and fell silent, hunching into himself a little. 

“Come, my brother,” Fili said to Kili, drawing him a little closer and sending a worried glance at Bilbo. “Do not hide yourself away. Why do you think your feelings are not important?” 

Kili frowned at the floor. “Not more important,” he muttered. “Less more important.” 

“You think your feelings are less important than mine?” Bilbo asked. 

Kili made no response to this, but he glanced up at Bilbo, and his mouth twitched unhappily. 

“Well,” Bilbo said, determined to remain calm and measured. “Well, all right, why do you think that?”

Again, Kili did not reply, but he glanced at the teacups on the floor. It was the briefest of glances, but not so brief that Bilbo did not notice it, and, after a moment, discern its significance. 

“Because you are still here,” he said, leaning down and placing his finger partway between the two cups. “You think your feelings are less important because you are still making your way to this other cup, and have not yet arrived there. I am right, am I not?”

“ _Snaga_ not -- not --” Kili started, but quickly stumbled to a halt again. 

“But you are not a _snaga_ ,” Fili said. 

“No,” Kili replied. “I am not _snaga_.” And he glared at the cups on the floor, and did not explain further.

“But that is not all,” Bilbo said. “This--” and here he gestured at the cups “-- this is all very important, and I am glad to know that you think of getting better in this way. But in fact, it is not like this.” And he reached down and picked up the two cups, and stacked them one atop the other. “It is like this, Kili. A _snaga_ is a person. You are a person. You have always been a person, even when you were with the orcs. All the other _snagas_ were people, too. It is only that the orcs confused your mind and your heart a great deal, and made you think you were not a person. But you were, you always were, and you still are. You still are, Kili.” And here he held out the two cups to Kili, still stacked together.

Kili did not reach out to take them, but only stared at them for a moment or two and then gave Bilbo an incredulous look. But Bilbo shook the cups a little, and nodded at them, and at last Kili raised his hands and took them, holding them gingerly as if he was afraid they might somehow injure him.

“That is all rather a lot for you to think about, I suppose,” Bilbo said. “But you are a person, my lad, and that means that you are just as important as I am. Every person is important, Kili, we are all just as important as each other. Your feelings are as important as mine. Indeed, I think it might be even more important that your feelings do not get hurt, since you are so much more vulnerable than I am.”

Kili, who had been sitting very still with a rather blank expression on his face, frowned and shook his head.

“I not know this, _vulnable_ ,” he said. “What it is mean?”

“ _Vulnerable_ ,” Bilbo said. “It means -- it means you are more likely to be badly hurt than I am, because you are -- fragile, easily broken. And so you need more protection than I do.”

This, though, produced a rather unexpected reaction from Kili. He sat up straight in his chair with a look of great surprise, and made a face that was almost a scowl.

“No,” he said. “Not this. I am strong. Not weak. I -- I--” He frowned at the cups in his hands as they clinked together, and Bilbo realised that his hands had begun to shake. “I not,” Kili said, “I not -- Dwarfs are strong. I am dwarf.” He looked at Fili. “I am dwarf,” he said again.

“Yes, my brother,” Fili said, removing his arm from Kili’s shoulders and taking the cups gently from Kili’s hands, setting them -- still stacked -- on the little table. “You are a dwarf,” Fili said. “You are a dwarf, and stronger than any dwarf could hope to be.” 

“Yes, of course,” Bilbo put in. “I certainly did not mean that you are weak. Why, in body you are marvellously strong, indeed. And in mind, too -- for your mind has suffered unimaginably, and yet still it is whole, and sound, if a little confused at times. It is only that -- well, let me see now, how can I explain this? It is that your feelings have been hurt so dreadfully, for so long, so that they need time to recover. And my feelings have never been badly hurt -- not as yours have -- so they are less in need of protection. Do you see?”

Kili looked like he did not really see at all, and Bilbo cast around for some other way to phrase his thoughts. “Ah!” he said at last. “It is like your knee.” And here he patted the aforesaid appendage. “Because your knee was badly hurt before, it takes less for it to be hurt again now, so it is important to be more careful of it that of your other knee. Your feelings are like that. Do you understand?”

Kili frowned down at his knee and then nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Knee is weak. Orcs hurt knee, knee is weak. I understand.”

“No, no, you have not understood at all!” Bilbo said, beginning to feel rather frustrated. “Your knee is easier to hurt now, it is true, but only because it has already been so damaged. If you think of all the hurt that your knee has had to cope with, and add it all together, why, it is a very strong knee indeed!” Here he patted Kili’s knee again, feeling oddly offended on its behalf. “Even after what was done to it, it still holds you up all day, and lets you run, even, and do everything you might otherwise want to do, only that sometimes it gets weary and it needs to rest. And your feelings -- your heart -- your heart is like that, too. If you add up all the hurt it has suffered, why, I think you must be the strongest dwarf in all of the world, but nonetheless, it cannot suffer forever without showing some strain. And so it is important that you should protect it, and that your brother and I should do our best to protect it, too.”

Kili listened to all of this with a frown on his face, and when Bilbo had finished, he sat quietly and seemed to be staring at nothing. But his frown was one of concentration, not unhappiness, and Bilbo let him alone to think his own thoughts, and considered whether it might not be time for more tea, as his last cup had gone rather cold. He did not wish to disturb Kili’s reflections, though, and so he simply waited until at last Kili spoke again.

“It is not right,” he said. “I think -- hobbit, you know, know many things. But not orcs, not _snaga_. I know this. Orcs not hurt feelings. Orcs hurt body, hurt mind. Not hurt feelings.”

Bilbo found himself quite unprepared for this answer. “Of course they did!” he said, and then rather thought better of it. “I mean, well, I don’t understand. They were constantly, terribly cruel to you. How can they not have hurt your feelings?”

Kili frowned at him. “I not have feelings,” he said. “I tell you this. Did tell you, before. No feelings with orcs. Only have feelings now, only since not long.”

Well, this was enough to throw Bilbo quite off the path, for of course Kili had indeed said this before, but it was quite as difficult to comprehend now as it had been then, if not more so. He groped for something to say that was not simply a denial, but came up empty-handed. And in fact, in the end it was Fili who replied.

“That is how we know,” he said. “It is how we know, Kili. Because you had feelings before the orcs, and you have feelings now. They did not disappear when you were with the orcs. Only you forgot you had them. That is how we know that they were hurt.”

“Indeed,” Bilbo said, seeing in Fili’s explanation the words he had been scrambling for. “Your brother is quite right. It is not that you did not have any feelings when you were with the orcs, but only that your feelings became so very battered that you hid them away rather than let them become even more damaged.”

Kili looked bewildered by this. “No,” he said, “I not do this. I not know how do this.”

“Bilbo does not mean that you did it on purpose,” Fili said. “But your heart did it, without you knowing. It grew so bruised that it closed itself up, like a caterpillar when you touch it.” He touched Kili’s chest. “It is only now beginning to open again, after so many years, and that is why you are feeling things again. Why you are able to be happy and angry and sad.”

Kili stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then he turned back to Bilbo. “It is right?” he said. “Heart is -- closed?”

“It was closed,” Bilbo said. “Now it is opening, very slowly, and your feelings are coming out again. But they are like -- they are like someone who has been ill for a long time, and only now rises from the bed. They are still weary, and lacking in strength, and they cannot do all the things they used to be able to do. That is why it is important that they are not hurt -- much more so than my feelings, which have never been ill at all.”

Kili was beginning to look rather overwhelmed by all of this. “I did do this?” he said. “Why I did do this? I close heart -- make feelings go? Why I did do this, make be less person?”

“You were protecting yourself,” Bilbo said, not liking the slightly panicked tone to Kili’s voice. “That is all it was. You were not trying to be less of a person -- and you were not, now, Kili, I must insist, you were just as much a person as I am -- but no-one could withstand what you withstood with their feelings unprotected. Why, imagine what it would be like with the orcs, if you were able to be sad, or angry!”

It seemed Kili followed this suggestion, though Bilbo had not really meant him to, for he frowned a moment and then looked suddenly desperately miserable and not a little frightened. Fili, ever alert for the slightest change in his brother’s mood, put a quick arm around his shoulders.

“No, do not imagine it, my brother,” he murmured. “You do not need to imagine it.”

Kili, though, seemed not to be able quite to escape from whatever his mind had shown him, and he reached out towards Bilbo, seemingly without thought. Bilbo, alarmed at what he had inadvertently caused with his words, held out his arm, and Kili clutched at his sleeve and closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them, he looked pale and shaken.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “It is not good.”

“Not good at all,” Bilbo said, stroking his arm soothingly. “I suppose perhaps we can be grateful that you do not remember the time from before you hid your feelings away. I am sure it was quite --” And of course, he could find no word for what it must have been like, for when he imagined it -- and Kili still a child, at that -- all the ones he knew seemed entirely inadequate. “Quite unpleasant,” he finished at last, and then tried to think of a way to change the subject, or at least steer the conversation into some less disastrous waters. “In any case,” he said at last, “that is why your feelings are more vulnerable than mine, my lad. Only because they have been so injured in the past, and they are still recovering. And that is why you must promise me that you will tell me if I ever make you feel as though you are going in the wrong direction again. So, now that we have talked about it, can you promise me that you will?” In truth, he rather thought that it was time for them to stop talking all together and do something less exhausting, but he did not feel that he would be able to rest if he did not extract the promise from Kili.

Kili tightened his grip on Bilbo’s sleeve a little. “Because vulnable,” he muttered. “I understand. Heart is--” But whatever his heart was, he did not complete his thought, but only shook his head. And yet still he did not promise, and all of Bilbo’s reassurances seemed to have had worse than no effect, for he looked if anything more tense and upset than he had when they had begun the conversation. 

“What is the matter, my brother?” Fili asked. “Why do you not promise, as Bilbo has asked?”

“I not--” Kili said, and then glanced from Fili to Bilbo, looking worried. “I think -- it is not right,” he said. “That I am person. That all person is important. I think you more important, hobbit more important.”

“You mean your heart does not believe it?” Bilbo asked.

“No,” Kili said, and then, “yes. Heart not believe. Also head. Head not believe. It is not right.” He hunched his shoulders, and it seemed it cost him quite the effort to disagree thus with Bilbo. “I think -- maybe it is you not understand orcs? Sometimes you not understand. It is this. It is not you are wrong. Only not understand.”

And now Bilbo found himself greatly torn, for he wished more than anything to encourage this line of thought in Kili, that he could disagree if he wished, that Bilbo was not always right. And yet he could not agree with him, nor yet even allow him to think that this particular belief of his had the slightest merit. Oh, it was a difficult trap indeed for our poor Mr. Baggins!

“Kili,” he said at last sliding forward on his chair so that his knees touched Kili’s and laying his hand over Kili’s where it still gripped his sleeve, “it is true that sometimes I am wrong, and especially that you understand a great deal more than I do about the orcs. But I have never been more sure of anything than I am of this. You are a person, and you are just as important as any other person. Just as important as me, or Fili, or Thorin, or any person you can think of. I am not wrong. In this, I am not wrong.”

Kili stared at him unhappily, then turned to look at Fili. “You as well think this?” he said.

Fili shook his head. “No, my brother,” he said. “To me, you are more important. More important than me, more important than mother or Thorin or Bilbo.” And here he cast a quick, apologetic glance at Bilbo, who only smiled his approval, for of course it was nothing he did not already know. “You are more important, Kili, not less,” Fili said. “That is what I think.”

Kili seemed not to know how to respond to this -- and indeed, it would surely have been difficult for any creature, let alone one such as he -- and turned back to Bilbo, beginning to look most distressed.

“I not think it,” he said. “I try. I can not think it.”

“You do not have to,” Bilbo said hastily. “Not yet, at any rate. These things take time. But Kili -- can you perhaps convince yourself that your brother and I are right, even though your heart and your mind say differently? You do not have to think it is true, as such, but only that we are right and you are wrong. Can you do that?”

Now, perhaps you have never tried to believe something that everything in you tells you is wrong, for certainly it is not a feat often attempted (though perhaps the world might be a better place if it were). It is a thing that is almost impossible to imagine, let alone achieve. And yet, Bilbo’s words had not been empty when he had spoken of the strength of Kili’s mind, and although the little dwarf sat staring blankly at the floor for long enough that Bilbo began to fear he had slipped into a fugue state, at last he roused himself, and looked up, and nodded.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I do this.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lad.”

Kili nodded again and let go of Bilbo’s sleeve, leaning back against his chair. He looked quite exhausted, and yet Bilbo could not let him rest yet.

“And the promise?” he said. “Can you promise me?”

Kili did not answer. But Fili touched his arm and spoke with great feeling.

“Please, my brother,” he said.

And Kili looked at him, and then at Bilbo, and gave the briefest nod.

“Yes,” he said. “You want this. I promise. I promise this.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said again, and found himself sagging in his own chair. He had meant the promise to be something short and simple, just something to be assured of before the much longer conversation he had envisaged concerning Kili’s deception and what it meant. But now here they were, and the sky was growing lighter, and every part of him felt heavy, as though he had been chopping firewood or building walls all night. Kili’s eyes were shadowed, and Fili looked tired and grim, though he at least was still upright in his chair. There was nothing for it: they would have to go back to bed.

And so they did, neither Fili nor Kili protesting in the slightest, but both seeming only to happy to crawl back into their bed and blow out the lamp. Bilbo, despite his weariness, spent a moment or two tidying up the living room before he made his way to his own rest. He took up the two cups from the little table and rinsed them out in the kitchen, then made to put them back in the cupboard. But he stayed his hand at the last moment, and stood up, holding the cups in his hand.

“After all,” he murmured to himself, “I do think they helped.”

And he took himself back to the guest room, and closed the curtains firmly against the pre-dawn light. But before he climbed into his own bed, he set the two cups in a neat stack on the table beside the dwarves’ bed. Kili was already asleep, head nodding on his chest, but when he woke up, he surely would not fail to see them, and maybe he would begin to understand.

“Good night, you two,” Bilbo murmured to his sleeping guests. And he crossed the room to his own little bed, and fell asleep without even crawling under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been _The Midnight Therapy Hour, with Dr Bilbo Baggins_. Tune in next week for more tea and dwarves talking awkwardly about their feelings.


	7. Chapter 7

When Bilbo awoke, the sun was already high in the sky, and, although he was certainly better for having slept, he felt rather thick-headed, not to mention disgruntled to have missed both second breakfast and elevenses. But he found that the dwarves had risen before him, and Fili had cooked up a kind of hash from some potatoes and the eggs and bacon they had picked at many hours before. He set a plate of this before Bilbo with the triumphant announcement that it was _second elevenses_ , and Bilbo, though initially inclined to snap that there was no such thing, found that the food was so fresh and hot and cheering that he set to eating as fast as he could instead, in the hope that he would finish before Kili and thus be in with a chance for seconds. By the time the pot was scraped clean, he felt much more like himself, and, having been chased away from the washing up by Fili, he retired to the bench outside to smoke and think about the events of the past days.

It was a pleasant enough morning, though rather chilly, and Bilbo found himself very grateful for the opportunity to sit and reflect quietly, for although he had spent most of the previous day alone, it had afforded precious little in the way of rest for him. And once he had thought long and hard, he came to the conclusion that, much as he wished for Kili to recover and learn to be his own dwarf as soon as possible, he had gone about things in quite the wrong way, and they could not continue in the way that they had been. He spent a little while feeling unpleasantly guilty, and then he set his guilt aside -- for after all, he had had the best of intentions, and even if he had not, feeling guilty would not help the situation at all, and thus was best left to dwarves and not indulged in by more practical folk. Instead, he considered what he might do, and came to the realisation that perhaps the best thing to do would be nothing at all. It was clear that Kili wished to move forward in his recovery just as much as Bilbo wanted him to, and that he was continually consciously working towards that goal. It was also clear that, whatever Bilbo might have wished to achieve, he had actually damaged Kili’s progress by trying to take too much charge of it. No, he would have to simply sit back and leave Kili alone to recover as and when he would, and if that meant that he did not learn how to make choices in any great hurry, well, Bilbo would just have to be content with that.

“And that’s all there is to it,” he said firmly to himself.

So it was that the rest of the day passed in peace. Bilbo, having made his decision, went so far as to postpone indefinitely the conversation about Kili’s deception and what it meant, for he felt that the little dwarf had quite enough to think about already. Instead, he spoke only of cheerful, light-hearted matters, such as the best way of preserving vegetables for the coming winter. He allowed himself one indulgence only, and that was to slip into the dwarves’ room and retrieve the two cups that stood, still stacked together, on the little table by the bed, bringing them into the living room and setting them at Kili’s elbow. Kili, who had been rather quiet all day, stared at them intently for a moment or two and then turned his face away, and Bilbo made no comment at all, and that was that.

In the evening, Fili and Kili practised their fiddle playing, and they all went to bed rather early. On the whole, thought Bilbo as he was drifting off to sleep, the day had been a great deal more pleasant than the one before -- so much so that he wondered why he had ever thought it was a good idea to push Kili in the first place.

It was not for almost two days, then, that anything further happened. Two days of peace and gentleness they were, of exactly the kind that Bilbo had imagined when he had first invited his friends to spend the winter in the Shire. On the first day Esmeralda came to visit, and on the second, Fili took his brother running. It was after they returned from this run and had washed themselves that Kili turned to Bilbo and said, “Hobbit, I can ask you thing?”

“ _Something_ ,” Bilbo said. “And yes, of course you may. You do not need to ask permission, remember?” 

Kili frowned. “No,” he said. “I not remember.”

“Well, you do not,” Bilbo said firmly. “Now, what is it you wanted to ask me?” 

“Why you are not angry?” Kili asked. He stared at Bilbo, clearly having completed his question and waiting for a reply.

“Why should I be angry?” Bilbo asked, feeling rather puzzled. It had been such a quiet day, he could not imagine what Kili might think he was angry about.

Kili seemed to realise this, for he nodded quickly. “Yes,” he said. “I say it bad. I mean -- before. You are not -- you were not angry. I said you not true, wanted hurt feelings you. But you are not angry. It is bad thing. I do this thing, it is bad. But you were not angry.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. He glanced at Fili, who had looked up from his book when Kili first spoke, and now laid it aside with a serious look on his face. “Well,” Bilbo said, “perhaps -- are you sure you want to talk about this now? You do not have to.”

Kili looked rather confused by this. “I not talk?” he said. “You not -- You want I not talk?”

“Oh, no, no, that is not what I meant at all!” Bilbo said hastily, and then decided that there was nothing wrong with talking about it as long as it was Kili who initiated the conversation. “Yes, you are quite right, Kili, it was not a nice thing to do. Indeed, I would say it was rather unkind. Do you remember _unkind_?”

Kili thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I hear before,” he said. “I know I did hear. I can not remember it mean.”

“It means -- let’s see -- _kind_ is when you do something nice for someone, even though you don’t have to and maybe it would be easier not to. When you do something without expecting anything in return, only to make someone feel good. Like -- like when Ori draws pictures for you, to make you happy.” Bilbo paused here and waited to see if Kili understood. Kili watched him for a moment and then nodded.

“Yes, kind,” he said. “Ori is kind. I understand.”

“Indeed, he is very kind,” Bilbo said. “Now, _unkind_ , then, is the opposite of this. It means when you do something on purpose to hurt someone or make them feel bad, even though it would be easier not to do it. Do you understand?”

Kili’s face grew rather grim at this. “Yes,” he said. “I understand this. Yes, I did do this. I am unkind.” 

“No, not at all!” Bilbo cried. “That is not what I meant. What you did was not very kind, but that does not mean that you yourself are unkind.”

Kili did not look he understood this, and Bilbo was about to try and explain again, but Kili spoke before he could.

“It is also unkind when you?” he said. “When you do, say me long time guess? Say not true is always unkind?”

“Hmm, no,” Bilbo said. “It is not always unkind to lie -- indeed, sometimes it is kinder to lie than to tell the truth. I should not have lied to you and told you that it took a long time for me to guess where you were, but I did not do it on purpose to hurt you, so it was not unkind. It was thoughtless, rather.”

“Thaw-less?” Kili asked.

“ _Thoughtless_ ,” Bilbo replied. “Because I did not _think_ you see? I did not try to hurt you on purpose, but if I had thought a little harder about how you felt, I might have realised that you would be hurt. So it was _thoughtless_.”

Kili fell silent at that, and, once it became clear that he would need a minute or two to digest this, Bilbo patted him absently and went to make them all some tea. When he returned, Kili was sitting up in his chair, clearly ready to continue the conversation, with Fili by his side looking almost as impatient, so that Bilbo could not help but chuckle a little. 

“Another question, then?” he said.

“I understand _thoughtless_ ,” Kili said. “It is less worse, thoughtless. Less worse than unkind, yes? It is right?”

“Ye-es,” Bilbo said, feeling rather like he might be stepping onto rather dangerous ground. “But that does not mean that _you_ are bad. And both things are best avoided if possible.”

“Yes, it is bad,” Kili said. “Unkind is bad. But you were not angry. Fili was happy. I saw this, Fili smile. I not understand. If it is bad, why you are not angry, why Fili smile?”

“Ah,” Bilbo said, trying to think of how to explain. But it was Fili who spoke next, touching his brother’s arm.

“I was happy because I saw something that the orcs tried to take from you,” he said. “It was not because I wanted you to be unkind to Bilbo. But everyone is unkind sometimes, my brother.”

“Quite right!” said Bilbo. “It is not that we want you to be unkind -- it is only that we have never seen you act so before, and it is a little unnatural.”

He knew, before the word had entirely left his mouth, that it was the wrong one to choose. Ah, if we could call back words and make them never spoken, so much hurt could be prevented! But we cannot, and neither could our hobbit, much as he might wish to. And he in that moment he wished, also, that he had not taught Kili quite as well as he had, for it was clear that he had understood the word, and taken from it something that Bilbo had not meant at all.

“Unnatural?” he said, looking rather miserable. “I am unnatural?”

“No,” Bilbo said, “no, no, no! Oh, I did not say that right at all!” He felt exasperated, partly with Kili, but mostly with himself, and found himself rather afraid to open his mouth again for fear of tripping up -- for the memory of the last time he had done so, and the day of misery for all that it had occasioned, was still fresh and painful in his mind. 

“You are not unnatural,” Fili said, seeming to realise that Bilbo was working himself into something of a state. “What Bilbo means is that it is normal for everyone to be unkind sometimes. Even the kindest person is sometimes angry, or exhausted, or at the end of their rope, and may say something they do not mean and that they regret. Nobody can be kind all the time.”

Kili stared at him, then frowned briefly at Bilbo before returning his gaze to his brother. “You are always kind,” he said.

Fili laughed at this. “I’m afraid I am unkind a great deal more than I would wish to be,” he said, and looked ruefully at Bilbo. “Though most of my unkindness is not directed at you, my brother.”

Bilbo, recognising this as a fuller and more heartfelt apology for Fili’s recent behaviour than he had previously received, nodded and smiled. “Well, as you say,” he said, “no-one can be kind all of the time. And you have a good heart, Fili, my lad.”

“I am glad you think so,” said Fili, and returned his attention to Kili. But Kili was now looking at Bilbo, frowning still.

“It is not right,” he said. “Hobbit is not unkind.” He glanced back at Fili. “Hobbit is not unkind,” he said again.

“No, he is not,” Fili said. “But sometimes he does say unkind things.” 

Kili looked supremely sceptical at this, and Bilbo -- though mildly put-out at being thus put in a position where he was forced to point out his own shortcomings -- leaned forward and patted his arm. 

“Your brother is right,” he said. “Why, only the other day I said that you would never learn how not to be a _snaga_ , did I not? And was that kind of me, do you think?”

Kili, who had turned to look at him when he spoke, did not respond to this, but only stared, at first frowning, and then becoming more thoughtful. At last, he shook his head.

“It was not kind,” he said. “But I know you not meaned this. So it is not important.”

“Whether I meant it or not -- _meant_ , Kili, not _meaned_ \-- I still said it,” Bilbo said. “I was sorry straight away, of course, but that is what your brother is trying to explain to you. Even kind people say unkind things sometimes. Most people cannot control all their thoughts and actions so that they never say anything they do not mean, anything they regret. It is not good for a person to be so very controlled that they do not do this. And that is why your brother was happy to see you behave poorly towards me, Kili -- it is because before you were always too afraid, too carefully controlled to do this. He was glad to see you break free from that control, even if it was to do something unkind.”

“Do you understand?” Fili asked quietly.

Kili thought about it for a moment or two, then slowly shook his head. “Maybe understand, maybe not understand,” he said, then frowned. “It is like be sad. It is like be sad, yes?”

“Hm,” Bilbo said. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“No, I say it bad,” Kili said. “You say me before -- you say,” and now he turned back to Fili, “you say must be sad be dwarf. Be dwarf is always also sometimes be sad. It is not good, but can not do other. Only must sometimes be sad.”

Fili nodded, looking rather confused. “I did say that,” he said. “Or I think I did, anyway.” 

“Yes, you say,” Kili said. “It is like this. Must also be unkind. Be dwarf is sometimes must be unkind. It is this?”

“I-- Yes, I suppose it is,” Fili said. “But you -- but Kili, you are already a dwarf. You are already a person.”

Kili stared at him and then suddenly scowled. It was a brief scowl, certainly, and yet a scowl it undeniably was. He looked to his other side, where the two cups were still stacked together, and then turned and frowned at Bilbo.

“How I can say this?” he said. “Before I say -- it is _snaga_ , it is person.” He gestured at the floor, as if pointing out phantom versions of the cups that now sat at his elbow. “Now it is-- cups are there, one cup in two cup. You say it is same. But it is not same. I am not like you, not like Fili. I am not same. But you say I can not say this, not person, not dwarf. How I can say, if not like this? How I can say it is I am try learn be same, be like dwarf?”

Bilbo felt rather assaulted by this last question, which contained rather more verbs than he felt was strictly necessary, and he was forced to pause a moment while he unpicked the meaning from it. But Kili seemed suddenly rather impatient, and when Bilbo did not answer immediately, he turned to Fili.

“How I can say this?” he asked.

Fili opened his mouth and then closed it again, looking rather helpless. “I don’t understand what it is you want to say, my brother,” he admitted at last. “Something about the cups?”

Kili shook his head. “No, it is not cups,” he said. “I can not say you this. Now cups -- and I can not say. No words now.” He turned back to Bilbo. “I can not say,” he said again, almost glaring now.

“I think I understand,” Bilbo said. “You mean -- now that I have told you that a _snaga_ is a person, you no longer have a way to describe what it is you want to become. Is that right?”

Kili looked discontented. “I not know,” he said, lowering his eyes to the ground. “It is this? I not understand.”

“I’m sure you do understand,” Bilbo said. “You are not learning how to be a person, Kili. You are already a person. You are learning how to be free.” He reached over and prodded Kili’s arm until the little dwarf looked at him. “Do you remember this word? _Free?_ ”

For a moment, Kili did not respond, but only stared at him with a rather stubborn expression on his face. But Bilbo nodded encouragingly and patted his knee, and at last his lips twitched and he mouthed the word. “I hear before,” he said. “Not know what mean.”

“It is the opposite of being a slave,” Bilbo said. “Of -- of being a _snaga_. A free person is someone who can make all their own decisions and can come and go as they choose and is not controlled by somebody else. A _snaga_ is a person, but they are not free. They are enslaved by the orcs, and so they are not free.” He saw Kili glance at the cups again, and he jumped quickly to his feet and hurried from the room, coming back with two more cups, which he placed on the floor at Kili’s left and right. “You see?” he said. “Here is thinking like a _snaga_ , and here is thinking like a free dwarf. Like a _free_ dwarf, Kili.”

Kili stared down at the cups, and in a moment, all the sullenness of the past few minutes seem to drain out of him. He slipped out of his chair and knelt on the floor, touching first one cup and then the other, running his fingers lightly over the rims and the handles. Then he placed the tip of his index finger on the floor between the two, and slid it a little way right and then a little way left, as if experimenting. Finally, he looked up at Bilbo and nodded, seeming much relieved.

“Yes,” he said. “Free. I learn this.”

“Good,” Bilbo said. “So, then, do you understand why your brother was happy when you were unkind?”

Kili, still kneeling on the floor, looked up at Fili with a thoughtful expression. “I maybe,” he said. “It is not I am unkind. Only free person always sometimes say unkind thing. Not mean say, but say. Like angry. Not want be angry, but be angry.” He frowned. “I not understand why it is good, say thing not mean. It is not good, do things without want do. Not good, not -- not safe.”

At this, Fili slipped from his own chair and sat heavily on the floor, putting an arm around Kili’s shoulders. “That is why it was so good to see you do it,” he said. “Because some part of you understands that you do not need always to worry about being safe any more.” He pressed the palm of his free hand against Kili’s chest. “Maybe your heart has begun to be less afraid. Maybe it has begun to understand that you are safe now. You are safe, my brother, and you do not need to fear what will happen if you do something unkind. That is part of what it means to be free. That you do not need to always be afraid.”

Kili watched him carefully as he said all of this. “It is why you are happy,” he said at last. “Because I do thing, it is part of be free. You want this.” He pointed at the second cup. “This.”

“I was happy because I saw something in you I have not seen for a long time,” Fili said. “Because I thought I saw you becoming whole. It is all I want for you, Kili. I want you to be whole.”

A slight frown came across Kili’s face. “Kili was unkind before?” he said. “Before orcs?”

Fili’s face fell a little, and Bilbo felt rather disappointed, too, for he had hoped that Kili had put his habit of separating his past and present selves entirely behind him. But of course, a new thing learned is never learned in a moment -- it takes time, and practice, and cannot be rushed.

“No,” said Fili. “You were not unkind before the orcs. You were a good-hearted dwarf who always wanted everyone to be happy. But sometimes you did unkind things, and very often you were thoughtless. It is more common with the young, and you were very young.”

“But I’m sure you were always sorry,” Bilbo put in, for he did not want Kili to come to the conclusion that being often thoughtless was something to strive for.

“Indeed you were,” Fili said. “When you understood that you had hurt someone, you were as sorry as the day is long, and you always tried to make them feel better in any way you could. You were a good-hearted dwarf, Kili. You are still a good-hearted dwarf.”

Kili lowered his head, but not in fear, rather in thought. He stared at the two cups laid out on the floor before him and reached out a finger to trace the rim of the one that meant _free_. “Yes,” he said at last. “I understand. It is bad say unkind thing. But it mean free. Free is not be afraid. Free is not need be afraid.”

“Exactly right,” Bilbo said. He had begun to feel rather like he was towering over his guests -- an odd feeling indeed for a hobbit -- and so he got down to sit on the floor as well, although, being (at least in terms of maturity) rather older than them both, he was less pleased to do so. “It is bad, but as long as you are sorry, it is not a terrible thing. It is easily forgiven.”

Kili raised his head sharply at this, fixing Bilbo with a worried stare. “Forgive?” he said. “It must forgive?”

“Yes, indeed,” Bilbo said. “If you do something unkind to someone else, it is something that they must choose to forgive -- or not to forgive.” 

The worry on Kili’s face grew immediately much greater, and Bilbo realised that, of course, the little dwarf had been so very careful before that he had never done anything that needed to be forgiven. He reached out hastily and patted Kili’s knee. “I forgive you,” he said. “I forgave you as soon as you said it.”

Kili’s mouth fell open slightly, and he nodded. “Thank you hobbit,” he whispered.

“Oh, my dear lad,” Bilbo said with a smile, “you are very welcome.”

There fell then something of a silence. It was not an awkward kind of silence, but rather a thoughtful one. Kili had returned his attention to the cups that sat on the floor before him, and he traced his fingers over the rightmost one again, seemingly in deep concentration. Fili was watching his brother with almost the same degree of concentration, as if he thought that if he could only pay close enough attention, he might at last become privy to the strange secrets of Kili’s brain. Bilbo, who was not really in the mood to stare intently at anything at all, let alone two dwarves who were not doing very much of interest, was about to clamber to his feet and fetch his pipe when Kili suddenly spoke up again.

“You want this,” he said, and picked up the cup, holding it out to Bilbo. “You want I should be this. Should learn this. It is important. It is important, yes?”

Bilbo, already halfway to his feet, sat back down again with a bump. He did not take the cup from Kili, but only considered it, and considered also the promises he had made to himself that morning only a few days before, about how he would not push Kili, but would let him recover in his own time and on his own terms. 

“Well,” he said at last, when he had completed his considerings as thoroughly as he could without being unacceptably rude in making Kili wait too long for an answer, “what I really want is for you to be comfortable and happy. It seems to me that you would be happier if you were able to do these things -- to make your own decisions, and be your own dwarf -- and that is why I have tried to find ways for you to learn this. But I realise now that it was rather wrong of me to try and make you learn this in the way I did.”

Kili looked rather mystified by this speech. “You want I learn?” he said. “It is important?”

Fili reached forward, then, and folded Kili’s fingers around the cup, which he was still holding out to Bilbo. “He says it is for you to learn if and when you will, my brother,” he said. “It does not matter whether Bilbo wants you to or not. It is for you to learn, or not learn, whenever it feels right.”

Kili looked from Bilbo to Fili and back. “It is this?” he said to Bilbo.

“Yes, that is right,” Bilbo said. “You must do what feels right to you.”

Kili lowered his hand, gripping the cup rather tightly, so it seemed. He stared at it, and then set it carefully back down on the floor. Fili caught Bilbo’s eye and gave him a nod that seemed to say _yes, I am glad we agree at last_.

And Bilbo was glad, too.

\----

Kili spent most of the rest of the day sitting on the floor, so deeply sunk in thought that Bilbo felt sure that another breakthrough would occur soon, perhaps even before they all went to bed. He found himself quite impatient to hear what would be the result of Kili’s reflections, and in the end he invented work for himself in the cellar so that he was not tempted constantly to pause by Kili and ask him how he was feeling. He felt very pleased with himself concerning the success of his new approach of allowing Kili to go his own way, for it had been only a few days since he had begun it, and yet already it seemed to be bearing fruit. 

But whatever fruit that might be, it did not make its appearance that day. The night passed peacefully enough -- although Bilbo found it rather hard to fall asleep -- and the next day dawned rainy and chill. It was the perfect kind of day for sitting by the fire with a pipe and a steaming cup of tea, and thus, the perfect kind of day for thinking deeply. And so Kili did, just as he had the day before, though this time he sat in his chair and only stared down at the cups where he had placed them again on the floor. And still Bilbo waited and bit his tongue and chewed on his pipe rather more vigorously than was perhaps advisable. 

As the day wore on, though, Kili began to seem less and less happy with whatever thoughts were passing through his mind. He had become very quiet, which of course was nothing particularly unusual in him, but he began to start a little whenever anyone made any move or spoke any word, and seemed nervous and agitated. Bilbo observed this with some trepidation, but he had promised himself he would not interfere in the progress of Kili’s thoughts, and he did not (though it took some effort). Fili, though, had made no such promise, or if he had he did not care to keep it in the face of his brother’s obvious distress. After Bilbo’s throwing a log on the fire caused Kili to shudder and withdraw behind his hair, Fili shook his head and touched his brother’s arm.

“Kili,” he said, “what is the matter?”

Kili remained perfectly still for a moment or two, then, apparently with some effort, seemed to shake himself a little and lifted his head. 

“No matter,” he muttered. “I am well.”

“I see,” Fili said. “And did you not promise that you would tell us if something was wrong? I was sure you had promised so, but perhaps I am mistaken.”

Kili sat for a moment as if frozen, though the expression on his face made it clear that he was wrestling with himself. At last, he gave a short nod, gripped the arms of his chair tightly, and turned to Bilbo.

“I can not this,” he said. He leaned down and seized the cup that meant _free_ , holding it out to Bilbo almost frantically. “I try, try try. But can not. I know I can not. I am not _snaga_ , not _snaga_. But I can not learn this. Make choices. Go walk alone. I can not learn be free. Can not.” 

Bilbo, quite bewildered by Kili’s sudden vehemence after such a long period of quiet, shook his head. “Now, Kili, I’m sure it all seems rather difficult right now--”

“No -- no,” Kili said, and, to Bilbo’s great surprise, he dropped the cup in Bilbo’s lap and immediately curled in on himself, going so far as to draw his legs up into the armchair and hunch over so that he was half hidden by his knees. Bilbo stared in great astonishment, and not a little chagrin, for in all his impatience to hear what Kili had to say for himself, he had never considered that it might be this.

“Kili--” he started again, but Fili suddenly reached over and seized him by the arm, almost painfully, giving him a sharp shake of the head.

“Then you will not,” Fili said, letting go of Bilbo and touching Kili’s shoulder. “It is just as Bilbo told you. If it does not feel right to you, you need not do it. Just as Bilbo said.” And he laid a little emphasis on this last sentence, and glanced meaningfully at Bilbo over the top of Kili’s head.

“Oh -- well I -- yes, yes,” Bilbo said, feeling wrong-footed and flustered. “I did say -- I mean I did not think -- but yes, I did say that, and it was true. Of course you do not have to continue if you do not want to, Kili. There is no need to hide. I am not angry.”

Kili peered out at him from under his hair, and Bilbo nodded and smiled and did his best to hide the bitter disappointment that now began to make itself known as the true meaning of Kili’s words sank in. 

“I must not learn?” Kili asked, half in a whisper. “It is not bad?” 

“Not bad at all, my brother,” Fili said. He reached down and picked up the cup that was still on the floor, then leaned over and hugged Kili briefly, kissing him on the temple. Rising to his feet, he held his hand out to Bilbo for the other cup, and, when Bilbo had handed it to him, he turned away.

“I will put these away,” he said, and stumped off towards the kitchen.

Bilbo watched him go, feeling all at sixes and sevens. Why, only a minute or two before he had been so very sure that Kili would surmount some great obstacle and take another step towards being fully himself, and yet now-- He shook his head, feeling angry with himself for having created this trap so thoroughly that, now that it had been sprung, there seemed no obvious way out.

“There now,” he said to Kili, patting him rather distractedly. “Everything is quite all right. I must just talk to your brother.” And he leapt to his feet, and pattered after Fili.

He found him in the kitchen, setting the cups back on the shelf. Bilbo crossed to stand beside him and lowered his voice so that Kili would not hear from the next room.

“Well, that all went rather wrong,” he said.

Fili turned and raised his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?” he said. “You asked him to make a choice, and he did.”

“Yes, but--” Bilbo said. “Surely you do not mean to allow him to be dependent on us for ever?”

Fili’s face darkened a little. “Surely you do not mean to make the same mistakes again so soon?” he said.

Bilbo gaped at him, and Fili shook his head. “You gave him the choice, and he made it. That is what it means, Bilbo, to let him go his own way. He did not choose what you wanted him to, but it is still his choice.”

“But he chose not to choose!” Bilbo cried, sure that Fili must be able to see the absurdity of the situation.

But Fili only nodded, though his expression was tired and rather sad. “Aye,” he said. “That he did. But if he does not want to learn, how do you propose to make him? More games and lies?”

And now the true impossibility of it all became quite clear to Bilbo. For of course, Fili was right: even if he chose to disregard Kili’s wishes, they would still be left at the same impasse as before, and Bilbo had no illusions that a second round would produce a more favourable result. It was all very aggravating, to be sure!

“Well, what are we to do, then?” Bilbo asked, feeling suddenly quite helpless.

Fili sighed. “It is as you said,” he said. “We will let him be. Perhaps things will change, and perhaps they will not. But we must be content either way.”

And he clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and turned to go back to the living room. Bilbo, left alone in the kitchen, took one of the cups down from the shelf and turned it around and around in his hands. He could not tell whether it was the cup that meant _snaga_ or the cup that meant _free_ \-- for they were twins, inherited from many generations of Bagginses -- and after perhaps a minute of staring at it he set it back on the shelf.

“Yes,” he said firmly to it, “I will be content. I am content.”

But he was not.


	8. Chapter 8

So the days passed, and very peaceful they were indeed. Nothing of note happened at all for some time, which was exactly what Bilbo had envisioned when he had first conceived of inviting his dwarvish friends to his dear green homeland. And yet, he was not quite at peace himself, despite the cosiness of his hobbit hole and the joys of food, fire and good friends that were never lacking. For he still felt, in his heart of hearts, that it was not right for them to simply allow Kili to turn his back on freedom, and choose to remain dependent. Sometimes, when he lay awake at night, he wondered if Kili’s current situation wasn’t rather too close to slavery for comfort, even though of course neither Bilbo nor Fili would ever dream of ordering him to do anything onerous or painful. On those nights, he shivered rather, despite the warmth of his bed, and tried to think of a way to escape from the trap in which they had found themselves.

But there was no way -- not unless Kili willed it so -- and so he simply let it be and did his best to ignore the little nagging doubt in his mind. And for the most part, he succeeded. 

One concession only did our hobbit make, and that was an accidental one, at least at first. For one day, he was at the market with his two friends, and, on trying to buy a large cabbage, he discovered that he had left his money at home.

“Bother,” he said. “Fili, would you run back to Bag End and fetch my purse? I’ve left it on the table by the door, I shouldn’t wonder.” He turned from leaning over the cabbage to smile at his friend, only to find he was not there. 

“Hm,” Bilbo muttered, suddenly unsure if Fili had already left, or if he had never been there in the first place. He glanced around, and saw that indeed he had not -- he was exchanging pleasantries with Hamfast Gamgee a few steps away, and clearly had not heard Bilbo at all.

“Fili,” Bilbo called, and Fili looked up with an enquiring smile. But it was then that Bilbo realised that Kili, who had been following him like a silent shadow since they left Bag End, had disappeared. 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo muttered. It certainly would not have been the first time Kili was spirited away by some overly friendly hobbit, though Bilbo was surprised he had not noticed if such a thing had happened.

“Was there something you wanted?” Fili asked, making his way over. Then he frowned and glanced around. “Where is my brother?”

“Er,” said Bilbo, but then he happened to glance towards Bag End, and saw Kili himself, small in the distance, slipping in through the door like a shadow. “Oh,” he said, and then, suddenly understanding what must have happened, “ _oh_. He has gone home to fetch my purse.”

Fili’s frown deepened, and he looked towards Bag End himself, though of course Kili was not visible at that moment. “Alone?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed,” Bilbo said. “It is not very far, after all. And he was not in the least reluctant.” And this, of course, was true -- for Kili must have left almost before Bilbo had finished making his request. Yet Bilbo could not help but worry that when the little dwarf returned, he would discover that he had inadvertently done some damage, though he could not quite imagine what, and the very thought made him rather tired -- not to mention the fact that Fili would no doubt be angry with him. “To be quite honest, I did not mean to send him at all,” he said, deciding that honesty was probably the best way forward. “I thought I was talking to you.”

Fili did not look a great deal happier at this confession, but he seemed rather worried than irate. “Well, he is coming back,” he said.

And indeed he was -- running at that, which rather made Bilbo wince when he realised he must have accidentally ordered him to do so. Still, at least that made their wait rather short, and soon Kili arrived, only very slightly out of breath, and clutching Bilbo’s purse in one hand. 

“I bring,” he said, and held it out. 

“Thank you very much,” Bilbo said, and took the purse. But he did not turn to pay for the cabbage, for he was more concerned to assure himself that Kili was not upset from having been sent off on his own. “And how are you feeling?”

Kili frowned at him. “Feel?” he said. “I not feel.”

Fili looked rather alarmed at this, and caught at his brother’s sleeve. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Surely you are feeling something?”

Kili began to look quite confused. “I not angry,” he said. “Not sad. Not scared.” He shrugged. “What I should feel? I not do anything, what I should feel?”

Bilbo patted Fili’s arm and turned to Kili. “It is quite all right to not be feeling anything in particular,” he said. “Your brother was only worried about you because you went off on your own.”

Kili glanced from Fili to Bilbo and back. “I go bring purse,” he said. He pointed at the purse in Bilbo’s hand. “Hobbit ask I bring purse.”

“But you do not like to walk alone,” Fili said. “Bilbo did not mean to send you alone.”

Kili shook his head. “It is not go walk alone,” he said. “It is go bring purse. Hobbit say me where go, what do. It is not go walk.” He nodded at Fili and pointed again at the purse. “It is bring purse,” he said.

“Well,” Bilbo said, feeling most relieved and also rather intrigued at the revelation of this new aspect of Kili’s tolerance, “thank you for the purse, my lad. And now I must buy this cabbage, or we shall never be done!”

And so they left the subject behind. But Bilbo did not forget it, and, although it was not at all the same thing as independence, still he felt it was a step in the right direction. And so this was the concession he made to the troubling little voice that nagged at him on his sleepless nights: he began to send Kili on errands. He was careful about where he sent him and what instructions he gave, and he made sure to visit his cousin Jessamine and hint strongly to her that Kili must be allowed to go about his business undisturbed, and he hoped that these precautions would prevent any further trouble from arising. And it seemed it was so, for Kili seemed not only to be content to fetch and carry, but rather to enjoy it -- though it occurred to Bilbo somewhat later that this was most probably simply another form of his desire to do housework, and therefore not, perhaps, as encouraging as it might at first seem. Much more encouraging, though, was Fili’s reaction -- for, although when he first realised what Bilbo was doing, he began to wear a rather stormy expression, when he observed Kili’s response to it, he grew instead quiet and thoughtful, and, not many days later, he began occasionally to send Kili on errands himself.

This, then, was the beginning and end of Bilbo’s transgression against the promises he had made, both to himself and Kili. And in truth, it was a small thing indeed, and perhaps it made no difference at all, save to make Bilbo feel a little better. So the weeks went on, and midwinter came and went -- and with it a host of cheerful festivities, which did not pass entirely without incident, although that is a story for another time -- and by early January, the nagging voice in Bilbo’s mind had faded almost to nothing -- or perhaps he had just become accustomed to ignoring it. And so, of course, it was in January that things began to change. 

Cake -- the baking and the eating thereof -- had become rather an important part of the regular round of activities in Bag End ever since Bilbo had managed to teach Kili his first recipe. Kili’s initial efforts had not been of the most edible kind, but the little dwarf had persevered, mixing and weighing with great concentration, and by January, he had mastered the art of simple sponge cakes and progressed to more complicated confections. On this particular day, Kili was trying to teach Esmeralda how to make a sort of heavy fruit-cake that had been a speciality of Bilbo’s mother (for once he discovered how nice it is to be able to pass down family recipes, Bilbo had begun to do so with great gusto). Matters were becoming rather chaotic -- for after all, she was only a very little hobbitling, and rather easily distracted -- and at last, Bilbo asked her to go and fetch some raisins from the pantry, in the hope that in her absence, he and Kili might still be able to save the cake.

“They are in the jar on the third shelf, I think,” he said.

A few moments later, the little hobbitling reappeared, her arms wrapped around a large jar of raisins and a rather curious look on her face.

“Mr. Bilbo,” she said, “why do you have a chair in the pantry?”

“A chair?” said Bilbo, who had become so accustomed to the armchair that sat unused in one corner of his pantry that he had entirely forgotten it was there. “Oh! Well, that is Kili’s chair.”

Esmeralda turned to Kili. “Why do you have a chair in the pantry, Mr. Kili? It’s all dark and cold in there.”

Kili considered her question for a moment. “Yes, it is dark,” he said. “Fili put chair there.”

Esmeralda glanced around for Fili, but since he was not there, she turned her attention back to Kili. “Why?” she asked.

“Because--” Kili said, and then frowned briefly. “Because -- it is nice. It is good sit in pantry. Much food.”

“But why?” Esmeralda asked again, but Bilbo -- who had suffered through rather too many endless chains of _but why?_ in the months since Esmeralda had become a regular visitor to Bag End, and furthermore was concerned that Kili should not be reminded of the upsetting events surrounding the installation of the chair into the pantry -- chose that moment to interrupt.

“Mr. Kili has told you why,” he said firmly. “Now, let me show you how to weigh these.”

Show her he did, and the rest of the cake was made without a great deal of incident. But when it was in the oven and Bilbo turned to ask Esmeralda to help him wash up, he found that she had disappeared.

“Hm,” he said, and turned to Kili. “Where did she go?” 

“She said go look for lamp,” Kili said. “She went in living room.”

“A lamp?” Bilbo said. “Why, what on earth does she want a lamp for? It is broad daylight!” But then another thought struck him, which had rather too much of silly little hobbitlings accidentally catching themselves on fire, and what their mothers might say if they were sent home with singed hair, and he suddenly leaped up.

“Bless me, we must find the child!” he cried. 

Kili looked rather alarmed at this declaration, and in a moment both of them were up and hurrying through the hobbit hole, looking for Esmeralda. She was nowhere to be found -- though, to Bilbo’s relief, neither were any raging infernos -- and at last they found themselves back in the kitchen, somewhat out of breath and quite, quite anxious. 

“Where she gone?” Kili asked. “She go hide?”

Bilbo shook his head, but then Kili frowned and pointed at something, and Bilbo turned to see light spilling out from under the door of the pantry. 

“Oh,” he said, and hurried over, flinging the door open. And there sat Esmeralda in Kili’s chair, with a frown on her face and her chin in her hand, a lamp set on the shelf at her elbow.

“There you are!” Bilbo cried in great relief. “What are you doing in there?”

“I’m pretending to be Mr. Kili,” Esmeralda announced. “I’m thinking very hard.” She frowned even deeper and burrowed her chin into her palm as if she thought that this was the route to true wisdom.

Bilbo, who suddenly had not the heart to scold the little hobbitling, turned to look at Kili himself, and stifled a laugh at the look of bewilderment on his face.

“You are not Kili,” Kili said. “I am Kili.”

“I’m _pretending_ ,” Esmeralda said, and then, apparently having decided to stop pretending, jumped to her feet and pattered across the pantry to where Kili and Bilbo were standing in the doorway. “Will you come and sit with me, Mr. Kili?” she said, tugging at his hand. “Please?”

Kili patted her and glanced up at Bilbo. “I should sit?” he said.

“Only if you want to,” Bilbo replied -- although if he was quite honest, it was more out of habit than anything else, for he knew by now that Kili would take no account of his own wants, or even really be aware that they existed. 

Kili nodded at Esmeralda. “Yes,” he said. “I can sit.” 

Esmeralda beamed at him and pulled him across to the chair, fussing around him like she was twice his age until she apparently decided he was settled enough, then climbing up into his lap. Kili picked up the blanket that still lay by the chair and wrapped it around her.

“You should not get cold,” he said.

“I’m not cold!” Esmeralda said, but when Kili tucked the blanket even more carefully round her, she accepted it without complaint and began to play with one of Kili’s shirt cuffs. Kili watched her closely for a moment or two, as if afraid she might suddenly dash herself against the floor, then looked up at Bilbo. 

“You also sit?” he said.

At this, Bilbo became aware that he was hovering in the doorway staring at the two of them, which was, of course, most impolite. “No, I don’t think I shall,” he said. “But I will come back when the cake is ready.”

And, closing the door almost all the way, he left the two of them alone.

\----

Fili came back from his run some time later, and, since the cake was out of the oven and almost cool enough to eat, Bilbo decided it was time to fetch Kili and his little hobbitling friend. But when he opened the door to the pantry, he was greeted by Kili raising a finger to his lips, and he saw that Esmeralda had fallen fast asleep, still curled on Kili’s lap. It was clear from the intricate braids in Kili’s hair that she had been awake for quite some time before dropping off, but now she slept soundly, wrapped in her blanket, and gripping Kili’s thumb tightly with one hand, as though she were an infant and not a child of seven. Kili had his other arm cradled around her, and, although Bilbo was briefly worried that he might not be entirely comfortable to have her sleeping on him, he seemed quite content. Still, Bilbo did not slip away immediately, but turned and beckoned silently to Fili, for such was the sight they made that he thought it should be a shame if Fili were to miss it. And indeed, when Fili made his way over and saw what it was that Bilbo was looking at, a slow smile spread across his face, and he put his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“That alcove came in useful, after all,” he whispered.

“Just the right size for a hobbitling’s bed,” Bilbo murmured back with a smile of his own. Then he stepped back and swung the door silently closed.

\----

Pleasant though this little incident was, it would have simply taken its place among all Bilbo’s other pleasant memories, were it not for what occurred hours later, after dinner but before supper, when Esmeralda had long been sent home to her mother. Fili was in the middle of perhaps his fifteenth attempt to teach Bilbo how to play a peculiar and horrendously complicated dwarven card game with an entirely unpronounceable name when Kili, who had been staring at nothing, suddenly sat up a little straighter.

“Hobbit,” he said, “I am wrong.”

“Hmm?” said Bilbo, still lost in trying to remember the subset of rules concerning appropriate game play when your opponent has led with the Knave of Cups. “What are you wrong about?”

Kili paused for a long moment, then shook his head. “Not am,” he said. “Was. I was wrong. When I said about not want be free.”

Well, at this, all thoughts of suits and point-scoring fled from Bilbo’s head, and he set his cards down on the table and turned himself fully around in his seat so that he was facing Kili. Fili, too, laid down his cards, and slipped across the room to sit beside his brother. 

“I see,” Bilbo said carefully. “And how exactly were you wrong about that?”

Kili thought about this question before he answered, and when at last he spoke, he looked from Fili to Bilbo and back, as if not quite sure who he wished to address.

“You want I should be like Kili,” he said. “You want this, yes?”

“I only want you to be happy, and comfortable,” Bilbo said firmly. 

“You are Kili, my brother,” was Fili’s reply. “You are exactly like Kili, because you are Kili.”

Kili made a rather frustrated face, apparently not satisfied with either of these responses. “Yes,” he said sullenly. Then he closed his eyes and gripped his knees rather tightly, as if fighting with himself. He half-ducked his head, then raised it again, and then, at last, opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“I want this,” he said, half in a whisper. “I want be like Kili. I always want. When you told me about Kili, I wanted this. From then, wanted, all until now. Be Kili. Be like Kili.” He swallowed, turning his face away. “I want, more more very,” he said. “Most importantest thing.”

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed, overjoyed to hear Kili speak so clearly about what he wanted, even if he was obviously very anxious to be doing so. “Well, that is wonderful, my lad.”

“Yes,” Kili muttered, and then seemed to shake himself. “He was free,” he said. He glanced now at Fili, only briefly, as if he was afraid to look for very long. “Kili was free. Made own choices. It is right.”

“You certainly did,” Fili said, his voice gentler than Bilbo would have once imagined a dwarven voice could be. “Not always the right ones, but you certainly made them. And you were the freest dwarf in the Blue Mountains, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Kili nodded, still not looking at Fili. “Yes,” he said again. “I always wanted. Most importantest. Learn this. Learn be Kili.” He glanced up at Bilbo, his hands flexing on his knees. “Wanted this,” he said.

“And do you still want it now?” Bilbo asked.

Kili nodded. “Yes,” he said, staring at the floor. “Yes, now.”

Bilbo smiled, but Fili, although he was no doubt as pleased as Bilbo was, seemed to have something more in the way of doubts. 

“But then why did you say you did not?” he asked. “When we asked you, you said you did not want to learn to be free. Have you changed your mind, then?”

Kili shook his head, but seemed to find it difficult to answer immediately. He still stared at the floor, his chin slowly descending towards his chest, so that his hair began to creep over his face. But then, wonder of wonders, he paused and groped blindly sideways towards Fili’s chair. Fili immediately seized his hand between both of his own, and Kili started slightly, and then sat up again, and glanced at his brother.

“It is difficult,” he said hoarsely. “Heart is afraid. _Snaga_ heart. Heart not want be free. Heart say can not. Heart is afraid.”

“But you want to be free,” Fili said. “Your mind wants it.”

“Yes,” Kili said. He looked at Bilbo and nodded. “Yes. Mind wants. Mind always wanted. But heart is afraid. Sometimes heart is louder, too loud. I said this -- not want be free -- heart was loud.” He frowned. “Maybe heart is right. Maybe can not learn make choice, can not learn be free. But mind want try.” He nodded again. “I want try.”

“Then we shall certainly help you in every way we can,” Bilbo said, aware that he was beaming like a fool but not quite sure how to stop himself. “But Kili, why is it that you are able to tell us this now? Has your heart become less afraid?”

“No, heart still afraid,” Kili said. He looked briefly furious -- an expression which Bilbo was startled by, for he had rarely seen it on Kili’s face before. “Heart is foolish, not know how be person,” he said. “Heart is weak. But I can not make heart go away.”

Fili shook his head at this. “No, my brother,” he said, “your heart is strong. Your heart kept you alive for many years, so that I could find you again.” He laid the palm of his free hand on Kili’s chest. “I would not give it up for the world.”

Kili stared at him, and Fili met his gaze with clear eyes and a serious expression. At last, Kili looked away. “Heart is still afraid,” he murmured, but he seemed to have lost his anger, and become rather thoughtful instead. 

“But it is quieter, then?” Bilbo asked. He was sure if he could only get to the bottom of why Kili had suddenly found himself able to express his desire to be free, he would gain some very useful insight into his friend’s odd ways of thinking.

“No, still loud,” Kili said. 

“Then why--?” Bilbo asked, and then caught Fili looking rather disapprovingly at him, and bit off the end of his question. But as it turned out, he did not need to complete it, for Kili frowned for a moment and then nodded.

“Pantry is good,” he said. “Much food. Nice in pantry. I not go long time.”

“Well, you haven’t wanted to go,” Bilbo said, and then stopped, struck with sudden understanding. “Oh,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me you have wanted to go, but you haven’t been able to tell us?”

Kili did not respond to this, not even to nod or shake his head, but he stared at Bilbo and clutched at Fili’s hand, and Bilbo felt sure he had the right of it. 

“Oh,” he said again. “Oh, yes, I see. I think I understand.”

“It is important,” Kili whispered.

“Yes, indeed! Very important!” Bilbo said. “I am so glad to hear all of this, my lad, so glad. And of course we will help you to learn, in any way we can.”

Kili nodded, looking suddenly relieved. “Yes,” he said. “How I can learn?”

“Hm,” Bilbo replied, considering all of the approaches he had invented in the past. But each of them had ended in failure -- and worse -- and at last he shook his head. “Well, I rather think you must decide that, Kili. I have tried to decide how to teach you before, and I have never had the right of it. So you must be the one to think of a way. You must think of a way you think will do the least damage to your heart.”

Kili looked apprehensive to be thus called upon. “I not know teach,” he said. “You are teacher. I not teach.”

“Well, that is not true at all,” Bilbo said. “You have taught me a great many things since I met you. But I did not mean that you had to decide this very moment -- we have a great deal of time, and there is no need for you to rush. It is getting late, after all, and you have already done so much thinking today.”

Kili still did not look very happy, but he nodded and sat back in his chair, as if signalling that there were no more revelations to be had from him that evening. And indeed there were not, for he spoke barely a word until they all went to bed. In fact, although Bilbo was much buoyed up by Kili’s sudden change of heart (or ability to ignore his heart, as might be the truer way to say it), he was well accustomed by now to the ponderous pace at which his friend thought his way through new ideas, and so he was not expecting anything further from him for some days, at the very least. And so he was greatly surprised -- though pleasantly -- when the very next morning, immediately after breakfast, Kili spoke up.

“I think of way,” he said.

“Hmm, pardon me?” Bilbo said, and then understood what Kili meant and sat up sharply. “A way to learn, do you mean?”

“Yes,” Kili said. He looked rather nervous, not to mention pale and tired, and Bilbo wondered if he had been up all night considering the problem. “I think,” he said again.

“Well, will you tell us what it is?” Bilbo asked, doing his best to keep from sounding too eager.

Kili nodded, but he did not speak. He sat very still for so long that Bilbo began to wonder if it was all a little too fast, after all (though he very much hoped it was not), and was about to suggest that they wait until after second breakfast when Kili suddenly spoke again.

“I ask, I should go pantry,” he said. “I ask. What you say?”

“I would say it depends if you want to or not,” Bilbo said. 

Kili did not look particularly pleased by this answer. “Yes,” he muttered. “You say this.”

“Is it the wrong thing to say?” Bilbo asked. “What should I say instead?”

But Kili only shook his head and looked miserable. “Still is want,” he muttered. “Heart not can.”

“We will say yes,” Fili said suddenly. “If you ask, we will say yes. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Kili looked at his brother and gave the slightest of nods. “It is way,” he said. “I think it is way.”

Bilbo found himself feeling a little behind. “I’m not sure I understand, my lad,” he said.

“He cannot tell us,” Fili said. “He cannot tell us he wants to go to the pantry, or anywhere else. But he can ask if we think he should.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, suddenly enlightened. He considered this indirect approach for a moment or two. “But then, is that not tricking your heart, Kili? Lying to your heart?”

“Yes,” Kili said. He nodded emphatically. “Lie to heart. Heart is weak. Make heart quiet.”

“But -- you will know, will you not?” Bilbo said. “If you know it is a lie, won’t your heart know, too? Won’t your heart know that it is really you that wants it?”

“I not think heart know,” Kili said. “Mind knows things. Heart is only afraid.”

After his own experience of trying to trick Kili into making choices, Bilbo was not quite sure that it was the best idea. But on the other hand, of course, he had been trying to trick both Kili’s heart and his mind, and had done it without his permission. And in any case, he had said that Kili should be in charge of deciding how to learn, and he had meant it. But there was one more thing that worried him about this new plan.

“But then Kili,” he said, “how will we know when you are telling us you want to do something and when you are only asking us if you should?”

Kili fell silent at this, and frowned at nothing for almost half a minute. Bilbo, rather anxious that he should not have caused Kili’s plan to crumble to dust, bit his tongue to keep himself from talking simply to break the silence. Fili, ever happier to sit quietly than Bilbo was, was a comforting presence at Kili’s elbow. And at last, Kili looked briefly at his brother, and then back at Bilbo.

“Two words,” he said. “ _Should_ and _must_. Mean same. Mean same, yes?” 

“Not exactly,” Bilbo said, “but certainly they are very similar.”

“Yes, same,” Kili said. “I ask, I should go, it is this.” He gestured slightly, apparently not quite willing to express with his own tongue the trap he was laying for his heart. “I ask, I must go, it is other. It mean ask. It is right? It is good way?”

Bilbo frowned. “You mean, if you want to do something, you will ask if you _should_ , but if you are not sure whether to do something, you will ask if you _must_?”

“It is good way?” Kili asked again.

“It is very good,” Bilbo said, rather surprised at how quickly Kili had invented such a neat solution. “It is very clever, Kili.”

“Good,” Kili said. “Yes, it is good way. I can learn. I -- I should learn?”

And Bilbo, feeling the gnawing little voice in his mind quieten for the first time in weeks, beamed at him.

“Yes, my dear lad,” he said. “Yes, you should.”


	9. Chapter 9

Now, our hobbit was, quite naturally, delighted by his friend Kili’s change of heart, and the next day he arose with a feeling of anticipation, quite sure that the day would be the beginning of a new phase in Kili’s life -- and his own. He waited all the morning through for Kili to ask if he _should_ do something. But Kili, in contrast to Bilbo’s barely suppressed excitement, was very quiet indeed, and very still with it, so that at times he seemed more like a statue than a creature of flesh and blood. He asked no questions all the morning, nor in the afternoon, and although he spoke when he was directly addressed, he used a very few words and volunteered nothing at all. 

This tranquility -- unusual even for Kili -- created its opposite in Bilbo. For as the day wore on, his anticipation began to convert itself into a strange kind of anxiety, so that his stomach went from thrumming a little to fluttering and tying itself in knots, and he began to feel mildly nauseated. No cure presented itself in any short order, either, for the next day, despite a visit from Esmeralda, Kili continued to be withdrawn and silent -- indeed, perhaps even more so than the day before -- and Bilbo suffered increased nervousness, which led, by the afternoon, to irritability. It was with some difficulty that he suppressed the urge to demand Kili tell him why he had not asked for anything, and at last, a little while before tea, he betook himself to the bench outside to smoke his pipe and sulk, though it was rather too chilly to do such a thing, and there was a sharp wind blowing up from the south that smelt of snow.

“Now, then, you are being ridiculous,” he said to himself as he sat there, determined not to shiver despite the fact that his clothing was really inadequate for his situation. “What does it really matter, after all?”

But matter it did, whether Bilbo wished it to or not, and he chewed on his pipe and stared across Hobbiton, and was glad for the chance to think his own thoughts for a little while.

A little while was all he had, though, for after he had been smoking and sulking for perhaps no more than a quarter of an hour, Fili appeared, holding one of Bilbo’s cloaks in his hands. 

“A little under-dressed for it, my friend,” he murmured. “I should not like you to catch cold.” And he settled the cloak around Bilbo’s shoulders, then sat down next to him and pulled out his own pipe. He did not speak, seeming quite content simply to keep Bilbo company. But Bilbo, for whom his short spell of sitting and thinking had provided no cure at all for his feeling of anxious misery, could not bear to keep silent for very long.

“I suppose you think I am very foolish,” he said after a few minutes.

Fili glanced at him with a frown. “Why should I think such a thing?” he asked.

“Hmph,” Bilbo said. “No reason.” And he puffed rather viciously on his pipe.

Fili stared thoughtfully out over the hillside for a moment or two, then took his own pipe from his lips. “Is it not you who is always telling me to have patience?” he asked.

“I have had patience!” Bilbo cried. “I have had patience for months now! And it was not me who said that Kili should learn this time -- it was he himself who said it.”

“Aye, he did,” Fili said. “And glad I was to hear it. But saying and doing are two different things, as well you know.”

“Of course I know that,” Bilbo said. “All the same--” But he could think of no way to continue without seeming both petty and rather ridiculous.

Fili stared at him a moment, then sighed. “All the same, you wish it were not so,” he said. “You wish that there could be a change -- not a small one, not a tiny step, but something great and shattering, something you can see with your own eyes. But there is no such change, and you are disappointed, and angry with yourself for being disappointed, and determined to hide both your anger and your disappointment, for neither of them are fair and neither of them are worthy of you.” He paused, drawing slowly on his pipe. “I am right, am I not?” he said.

Bilbo felt rather as though Fili had just pushed him off the bench. “Well -- yes,” he said. “I suppose you are. But am I so obvious in my feelings, then?”

Fili smiled a small smile. “Perhaps, to those who know you well,” he said. “And then again, perhaps I am simply speaking from a great deal of experience.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Yes, of course. Yes.” And he wondered to himself why it he was suddenly playing the role that was more normally occupied by Fili -- why he was allowing himself to become so emotionally bound to Kili’s development, where before he had been able to maintain at least some level of distance. But he had no answer for this question, and so -- since hobbits are practical creatures, on the whole -- he put it away and turned in a different direction. “Then what should I do, do you think?” he asked. “I cannot seem to rid myself of this feeling, and it is most unpleasant, to be sure. And is it so bad, after all, to wish good things for your brother?”

“It is not bad, in the sense that you mean,” Fili said, “but it will pull you down into grief. I have only one piece of advice to give you, and it is this: you must wish for less.”

Bilbo frowned. “Wish for less for Kili?” he said, sure that he must be mistaken, for this advice seemed at once both pessimistic and even a little cruel.

“For Kili, and from Kili,” Fili said. “Or, if not less, then wish for something different.” He gave a melancholy sigh. “It is one thing to wish for something you cannot have as a kind of dream or fantasy, but to wish for something that could be true, and real, and to have the proof that you shall not have it before you always -- no, my friend, it is a bad road, and you should not walk it. You must learn to wish for less -- or for something different -- and to be as happy as you can with that.”

This pronouncement left Bilbo feeling rather gloomy, yet he could think of no refutation for it -- not one that took for its foundation the same firm pragmatism and thus could be considered a true counterargument -- and so he only sat and puffed at his pipe and tugged his cloak closer around himself. But when he had sat thus sunk in thought for a few minutes, Fili spoke again.

“He knows that you are upset, you know,” he said. “And he knows the cause of it.”

Bilbo looked at him sharply. “How could he know that?” he asked. “Have you told him?”

Fili snorted. “There was no need for anyone to tell him,” he said. “You are not so good at hiding your feelings as you think, master hobbit.” He grew more serious and stared for a moment at his pipe. “Besides,” he said, “he could hardly fail to notice. He watches you always.”

Bilbo spluttered a little at this. “I’m sure he does not!” he said. “And how would you know that, anyway?”

“Because I watch him always,” Fili said, with a melancholy sort of smile. “That is how I know.”

Well, Bilbo immediately saw the danger in this line of conversation, for although months had passed, he had never forgotten the terrible despair that Fili had fallen into in the early autumn, and what its cause had been. “But I’m sure he watches you, as well,” he said hastily. And to his relief, Fili’s smile brightened a touch.

“Aye, he does,” he said. “But he does not like to be caught at his watching, and so I do not see it often. But he does not seem to care if I see him watching you.”

Bilbo found himself rather surprised by this, though he was not sure whether it was so much the idea that Kili might not only have noticed his mood but indeed even understood it, or rather that he realised suddenly that Fili and Kili had their own odd little world of watching and not-watching, a world that he was not part of and indeed had only just become aware of. He wondered if he should feel left out. But he did not -- in fact, he felt glad for Fili that he should have something he did not have to share, and rather relieved not to be included, for it seemed to him that this business of watching had a sort of dwarven intensity to it that he was sure he would find a little too much. 

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I have not been so very discreet. But why do you think he knows the cause?”

“He knows that you wish him to make choices, and he knows that he has said that he will, and he knows that he has not,” Fili said. He shrugged. “It does not require a deep understanding of love or table manners for him to follow his nose from there. And besides, he understands a great deal more of everything than he once did.”

And indeed, Bilbo reflected, that was true -- and also true was that Kili had always understood more than Bilbo had expected, and many of Bilbo’s missteps in the last months had been due to forgetting that fact. 

“I was quite content with waiting, and with being patient, before Kili stirred all of this up again,” he said at last, with an exasperated sigh. “I wish he would just do what he said he would do!”

Fili knocked the ashes out of his pipe and rose from the bench. “You should wish for less, my friend,” he said, and went back inside.

\----

Bilbo had become rather used to giving advice, and not so accustomed to receiving it -- at least, not since he had last seen Gandalf. Nonetheless, although for a little while he dismissed Fili’s counsel and chewed on his pipe and swore to himself that it really was not the fault of his wishing too much at all, but of Kili stirring up his expectations, at last the more sensible part of him took over, and pointed out that, wherever the blame might lie, the only thing that he could control was his own feelings. Now such a thing is, of course, more easily said than done, but Bilbo had had some small deal of practice since Dwalin had first knocked at his door almost two years before, and now he filled his pipe again and pulled his cloak more tightly around himself, settled himself more firmly on the bench, and proceeded to give himself a good talking to.

“Now listen here, Bilbo, my lad,” he said, “it is no good trying to force Kili to do things before he is ready, as you know very well. And now it seems he knows all about things that he never knew about before, and your behaviour is no doubt only making him more anxious and less likely to be forthcoming. So, then, you must do as Fili says, and be happy with what you have, just as you were trying to do before. And if you cannot be happy, then you must at least pretend, and maybe the pretence will bring truth behind it, as is so often the case.”

After he had said these things to himself, he sat a little while longer, trying to smother the nagging voice in his mind that had started up its anxious chorus again. And, when he had done this as much as he could, he went back inside.

Kili and Fili were in the kitchen, making tea. Both looked up as he entered, and while Fili gave him a warm smile, Kili grew very still indeed, just as he had been for the whole day and the day before. But where before, Bilbo had seen tranquility, now he looked more closely, and he saw what Fili had apparently seen long before: Kili was still because he was holding himself still. It was an odd thing indeed to try and describe, for he was not rigid, nor tense, exactly -- but he was _ready_ , in a way that was perhaps as far from tranquility as it was possible to be without being in the midst of a desperate battle. It was nothing new -- Bilbo had seen Kili behave this way many times before. But this time he had failed to recognise it for what it was -- perhaps because of his own state of inexplicable anxiety -- and thus entirely misinterpreted Kili’s state of mind. Immediately upon realising this, Bilbo felt quite sorry, and, where before he had only been committed in his mind to the idea of wishing for less, now the notion took its place in his heart as well, and when he smiled, it was no pretence.

“Hello, Kili,” he said. “Are you making tea?”

Kili stood still a moment longer, and Bilbo tried to see if he was watching, as Fili said he always was, but he could not make it out. At last, Kili set down the teacup he was holding.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the table. “Tea. Tea time.”

“Indeed it is!” Bilbo said. “And after sitting out in the cold for an hour, I am quite ready for a hot drink and some cake. Or crumpets! We have not had crumpets for days.”

And off he bustled to make the crumpets, smiling at Kili and patting him gently on the shoulder as he passed, as if to say _I am sorry I was impatient, but I am feeling better now_. And in the end, they had both crumpets and cake -- for after all, as Bilbo’s mother always used to say, afternoon tea is one of the six most important meals of the day, and there is no sense having a full pantry and an empty stomach.

\----

In the end, though, Bilbo did not have to be patient for so very long. The change in his mood precipitated by his conversation with Fili very quickly produced a change in Kili’s mood in turn, and he became less still, and less quiet, and began to seem all together more like he had been for the past few months. And on the following day, when Bilbo had just risen to sweep the kitchen, as he did every morning after breakfast, Kili looked up.

“I should sweep?” he asked.

“Hm?” Bilbo said. “Oh, no, my lad, I will do that.” But then, hearing again in his mind what Kili had said, he paused and looked sharply at him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Kili, who had ducked his head with a confused frown at Bilbo’s answer to his question, glanced up out of the corners of his eyes. “I ask -- should sweep?” he said, almost in a whisper.

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Oh, I see.” And now, of course, he was faced with quite the dilemma -- for he and Fili had agreed months before that Kili should not be set to household chores (with the exception of cooking), for fear that he would see it in the same way as working for the orcs. And yet, it was the first time Kili had used the word _should_ since he had declared that he would try to learn to make choices, and Bilbo, after waiting for days for such a question to make its appearance, could hardly deny it now. If he were to do so, even if he explained why, who could say whether Kili would ever try again?

So Bilbo stood, in the throes of indecision, until Kili began to sink a little deeper into his chair.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I thought it is not bad ask.”

Well, this spurred Bilbo into action in a moment. “No, not bad!” he said. “Not bad at all. Of course you should sweep, yes, of course!” And he hurried to fetch the broom, and thrust it at Kili rather more violently than he intended to, so that Kili started a little and flinched away. But a moment later he rose to his feet and took the broom, though it seemed he would still not met Bilbo’s eye.

“Thank you hobbit,” he whispered, and slipped into the kitchen. 

“You are very welcome,” Bilbo said, staring after him, and then, much more quietly, “Oh dear.”

\----

Fili, of course, came back almost immediately after Kili had begun sweeping, and of course the first thing he did was look for his brother, so that there was no way Bilbo could have avoided him finding out about it even if he had wanted to (which, if he was honest with himself, he did). As it was, Bilbo closed the door to prevent Fili from going into the kitchen, for he did not want him to be surprised and react unpredictably in front of his brother.

“Yes, he is in there,” he said. “He is sweeping the floor.”

Fili looked at him sharply. “Sweeping?” he said. “You have set him to sweep?”

Bilbo sighed, seeing the tightening of Fili’s jaw and hoping he would at least have the sense to keep his voice down. “He asked me,” he said. “He asked me if he should sweep. He said _should_.” He shrugged helplessly. “It is the first thing he has asked for.”

Fili stared at him for a long moment, and Bilbo braced himself. But the sharp words he was waiting for never came. Instead, the angry light went out of Fili’s eyes, and he rubbed the back of his neck and made a rueful grimace. 

“Why could he not wish to do something else?” he muttered. 

Bilbo shook his head. “I suppose--” he said. “I suppose if we truly wish him to make his own choices, we must accept that we may not like what he chooses.” It had not really occurred to him before, in all his feverish determination to see Kili’s independence grow, but now that it did, and now that he recalled all of the various ways Kili had shown himself to think in such an odd and often incomprehensible way, his heart began to sink. “Within reason, certainly,” he added.

Fili glared at the kitchen door as if it was responsible for all his woes. “I suppose you are right,” he said. But he did not sound like he really meant it.

\----

Whether he meant it or not, by the time Kili finally reappeared -- having taken far longer than Bilbo would have about the same task -- Fili had managed to school his face so that, if Bilbo had not known he was not best pleased, he would not have been able to find out by looking. Kili stood in the doorway, holding the broom and looking rather hesitant.

“I sweep,” he said to Bilbo. “You look, it is good?”

“I’m sure it is very good,” Bilbo said, but he got to his feet anyway and went to inspect the kitchen. When he did, he found that Kili had not performed the rather cursory sweep that Bilbo carried out daily, but had been a great deal more thorough. Not to say that the floor was not generally clean after Bilbo swept it -- he was a hobbit, after all, and hobbits like things to be in order -- but Kili had cleaned as though it were the first day of spring, even apparently finding his way into corners that the broom would not fit and ferreting out all the dirt, though what method he had used for this, Bilbo could not say. On closer inspection, though, he saw that Kili himself was looking rather grubby, and he became quickly convinced that the little dwarf had been down on his hands and knees -- possibly even collecting dust and dirt with his hands, if the state of his fingernails was anything to go by.

“It is excellent, my lad,” he said, feeling as though he probably should have looked in on Kili earlier -- for he certainly had not intended him to go to so much trouble. “Sparkling clean, I must say, and thank you very much for your hard work! But now you need a wash yourself.”

He held his hand out for the broom, and Kili passed it to him and nodded.

“All wash?” he said. “Or only hands?”

“All,” Bilbo said firmly, and pushed him towards the bathroom. “And your fingernails, mind!”

And he set the broom in the corner and stared around at the spotless floor. “Well, you have learned what _clean_ means at last,” he murmured.

But Kili did not answer, for he was already gone.

\-----

Bilbo waited rather anxiously for Kili to make another request, hoping that it would be for something less fraught with difficulty. But it was not until the next day that his desire was granted, and then only half so. Fili was once more absent, though only for a few minutes this time, when Kili sat up a little in his chair and gave Bilbo a hopeful look.

“Hobbit,” he said, “I should sweep kitchen?”

Bilbo found himself caught unawares, for it had not occurred to him that Kili might make the same request again. Indeed, the cleaning of the day before had been so very thorough that there was really little need to sweep the kitchen again. And yet, he found himself caught on the horns of the very same dilemma, for he did not wish to deny Kili the only thing he seemed to want. 

“Yes, you may,” he said at last, being careful not to say that Kili _should_ , for it felt somehow too forceful given the situation. “You do not need to be long about it, though, Kili, for it is already very clean.”

Kili nodded and rose to his feet, and by the time Fili returned, he was already in the kitchen. And this caused Bilbo to ponder a little -- but only for a very short time, for Fili frowned as soon as he noted his brother’s absence, and then frowned deeper when he heard the sound of the broom.

“He asked,” Bilbo said quickly. “And I said yes.”

Fili frowned more deeply still, but he did not go into the kitchen, nor make any complaint. Instead, he sat in his chair, and seemed to wrestle with himself silently for a few minutes before at last his brow smoothed. By the time Kili returned -- more quickly this time, though still much less so than Bilbo would have predicted, given the size of the task -- he appeared once more calm and unruffled. He did not speak but to greet his brother quietly, and Kili, though apparently slightly anxious, replied in kind. And that was all there was to it.

Except that it was not all there was to it, for the next day, Kili asked his question again. And this time, Bilbo was reminded of his ponderings of the day before, for all morning Kili was quiet, and Bilbo thought perhaps he would not ask that day. Yet ask he did, but not until the afternoon, immediately after Fili had absented himself to chop some more firewood. This, then, was what set Bilbo’s mind to remember the day before, and the day before that, and the fact that Fili had been absent each time Kili had asked to sweep the kitchen. He pondered, but very little came of his ponderings, except that it seemed to him that Kili did not wish to ask to do something when Fili was present -- and he could think of no reason for this that would not hurt Fili’s feelings. His ponderings were rather gloomy, therefore, but he resolved that, if the same thing should happen the next day, he would ask Kili about it, and see if he could solve the problem without bringing Fili into it at all -- for Fili had been generally more cheerful and less prone to bouts of stormy temper and jealousy in the last few months, and Bilbo was determined to keep it that way, if he could.

As it turned out, however, Bilbo was not the only person who had noticed a pattern in Kili’s behaviour. The very next day, Fili excused himself soon after breakfast, saying he had some errand to run, the details of which Bilbo did not catch, for he was busy watching Kili to see what he would do. And indeed, as soon as the front door closed behind Fili, Kili sat up and looked at Bilbo with the same hopeful expression he had worn for the last two days. 

“I should sweep kitchen?” he asked. 

“Yes, if you like,” Bilbo said. But this time he did not leave Kili to sweep alone, but followed him into the kitchen, opening his mouth to ask why Kili always waited for Fili’s absence even as Kili took up his broom. But neither of them completed their task, for in that moment, Fili himself appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Hello, my brother,” he said.

Kili became as a statue, only his eyes betraying that he was alive at all. He stared at Fili, clutching the broom in one hand, and it seemed he would not -- or could not -- speak. An expression of great trouble appeared on Fili’s face as he observed this, and he took two quick strides over to his brother and took the broom from him, laying a hand upon his shoulder.

“Sweeping again?” he said. “Surely there is no dust left in all of Hobbiton.”

Kili did not reply, but seemed suddenly several inches shorter than his brother, though in fact they were of a height. Fili sighed and shook his head.

“What have I done that you will not ask for what you want in my presence?” he asked. “Have I done something to frighten you?”

Kili stared at the floor, and when he spoke, he sounded rather muffled. “I am sorry,” he said. “I not any more sweep.”

Fili frowned at this, and glanced at Bilbo as if asking for an explanation. But Bilbo, having not yet had the opportunity to ask Kili about his strange aversion, could only shrug helplessly.

“I don’t know anything about it,” he said.

Fili turned back to his brother, then, his face growing grim as he observed how Kili seemed to have grown smaller still, and all of a sudden looked oddly ragged, though of course he had on the same clothes he had been wearing all day.

“Why will you not sweep any more?” he asked. “You asked to, did you not? You wanted to?”

Kili’s gaze rose for a brief moment, then he fixed his eyes once more on the floor. “You not like I sweep,” he said, voice growing quieter still. “I know. Always did know. I should not asked sweep. I am sorry.”

Fili’s face grew sorrowful indeed at this, and Bilbo remembered how insistent he had been, months before, that Kili should not sweep the floor. Of course Kili would remember that, though he continually forgot much more important things like his own uncle’s name!

“I am not--” Fili said, and then paused, still holding the broom and frowning at nothing, apparently thinking his way through whatever it was he was about to say. This attitude was so similar to the one that Kili often displayed when he was constructing a complicated thought that Bilbo was struck suddenly by the resemblance between the two brothers, something which rarely appeared obvious to him, and he wondered with a pang if once, before the orcs, they had been alike enough in mannerisms and speech for their relationship to be immediately clear to any who cared to look. But if once they had been so, they were not so any more -- except at moments such as this one.

“I do not want you to stop,” Fili said at last. “I am not angry, or even displeased.” He held out the broom, but Kili did not reach to take it, nor yet even look up from the floor. Fili shook his head. “I only want you to understand that you do not have to sweep, Kili. You are not a servant. You are not a slave. No-one will be unhappy if you do not work. I want you to understand this.”

Kili did not speak for a moment, and Fili touched him on the arm. “Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kili said, glancing up at Fili, then back at the floor. “I know this. I am not slave. It is like _snaga_. I am not _snaga_.” He looked enquiringly at Bilbo. “It is like _snaga_ , yes?” 

“Yes,” Bilbo said, though in fact he thought that _snaga_ meant something rather more specific -- in a number of highly unpleasant ways -- than _slave_.

“Yes,” Kili said. “I know this. I not sweep because slave. It is not why.”

“Then why?” Fili asked. “You have worked for so many years, my brother. You do not need to work any more. And yet it is the first thing you ask for. I am not angry. But I wish -- you can ask for anything, do you understand? Something for yourself. Honey, or cake, or to look at your pictures. I know you enjoy these things. Why then do you ask for this? I do not understand why.”

Kili stared at the floor for a few moments, his mouth twitching unhappily. At last, though, he looked up, though only sideways, as if he could not quite bring himself to look his brother in the face.

“You want this,” he said. “I learn. Make choice. I try learn. Hobbit say it is I must know how learn. What is good way. I not know what is good. Not know. Hobbit is teacher.” He looked at Bilbo and nodded. “Good teacher, more best. I not know. But I think -- this. Heart not want I should make choice. Should ask thing. But heart like it I work. Heart is loud, always loud, loud. But when it is I work, heart is more quieter. Heart is always scared, but when work, less scared. So I think this -- I ask thing heart like. Thing make heart quiet. It is more easier ask this thing. It is why.” He hesitated, then at last raised his head and looked his brother full in the face. “It is why,” he said, rather quietly.

“You do not have to be scared,” Fili said. “Your heart does not have to be scared. No-one will be angry with you if you do not work. We will be happy.”

Kili shook his head. “Yes, must be scared,” he said. “Heart must be scared. It is like this. Always like. It can not be other.”

“But--” Fili said, starting to look rather upset, “perhaps if you practised? If you practised not working, perhaps your heart would learn not to be scared?”

Kili’s shoulders hunched a little. “I not think,” he said. “Already months not work. Heart not learn.”

“Fili,” Bilbo said, stepping forward and touching Fili’s arm. “It is good. It is a good thing. Your brother is finding ways to learn without causing himself too much hurt.”

Fili blinked at him a moment, and Bilbo suddenly had an idea, which, as it turned out, would be one of the best ideas he had all that winter. “It is very odd, though,” he said, trying to suppress a smile. “After all, dwarves are not known for liking to work hard.”

Fili stared at him with an expression of great astonishment, then drew himself up sharply. “I am amazed to hear you say such a thing,” he said. “You of all people must know that dwarves are the most industrious race in all the world!”

“Oh?” Bilbo said innocently. “And yet you have been idle these several months, and now you are encouraging your brother to be just the same.”

“I am not _idle_ ,” Fili said, starting to look truly offended.

“Excellent news!” Bilbo cried. “Well, then, Kili my lad, it seems your brother has just volunteered to help you clean the kitchen!” And he took a cloth and thrust it into Fili’s hands. “The table needs a good scrubbing,” he said. “And the windowsills, when you’ve finished that.”

Fili gaped at him, and Kili too, and their twin expressions of astonishment were enough to make Bilbo chuckle. “Come, now,” he said. “Surely your mother used to set the two of you to chores together when you were children? It cannot be so very strange.”

At this, Fili’s face abruptly changed, from amazed confusion to understanding, and then a kind of soft look of nostalgia. “Indeed she did,” he said with a small smile, “though I do not know why, for it always took us much longer to finish them that way.”

“Perhaps it was not speed that she cared most about,” Bilbo said with a smile. “So, then. Am I to see the fabled industry of the dwarves, or no?”

Fili broke into a real smile, then, and even gave Bilbo a small bow which perhaps was a sign of gratitude. “Well, then, my brother,” he said, turning to Kili. “A challenge has been issued! If it is work that your heart wants, then work it shall have.”

And Bilbo, seeing Kili take up his broom once more, smiled too, and slipped back to the living room to read his book.

\----

Hobbits are, in general, fastidious creatures, given to order and cleanliness (as well as frequent and lengthy bouts of cooking and gardening). Thus, Bag End had always been tidy and clean, for as long as Bilbo had lived there, and no doubt through all the many years since his ancestor had first dug it out of the hill. Yet over the next days, it became perhaps cleaner than it had ever been before -- for Fili was correct, of course, about the industriousness of dwarves when they put their mind to something, and although that something is usually the making of wondrous crafts, it turned out that cleaning was not at all outside the realm of dwarven talents. 

At first, it seemed that Kili was still rather hesitant to ask if he could sweep with his brother in the room, and on the day after the two brothers had cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom, he sat silent, and clearly rather anxious, glancing up at both Bilbo and Fili from time to time as if he wished to speak but could not. It grew to a point where Bilbo was beginning to consider asking Fili to go on an errand so that Kili would feel free to speak, when at last Fili himself spoke up.

“This is a rather tedious day,” he said. “I wish we had some work to do!”

Kili’s shoulders sank a little at this, and he gave Fili a grateful look. “We should work?” he said quickly, as if afraid he might lose his nerve. “I should also work?”

“Indeed!” Bilbo said, jumping to his feet. “Work is the very thing! I believe my third guest bedroom has not been properly cleaned in years. Fetch your broom, my lad!”

And so it went. Fili was not at all shy about making his enjoyment of working with his brother clear, and Kili became less and less hesitant about asking as the days passed. Indeed, he became altogether less nervous and apt to withdraw than he had been for quite some time. One day, he and Fili had spent the entire afternoon chopping every log in the cellar into fire-sized pieces, and then fetching more wood to chop, until Bilbo felt sure he would need no more firewood for years to come. And the morning afterwards, Bilbo woke up -- early, it was true, but not so very early -- to find that Kili was still asleep.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said to himself -- but although he only said it inside his head, it seemed that somehow Kili heard it anyway, for he jerked a little and woke. Yet all the same, it was one of very, very few occasions when Bilbo had seen the little dwarf sleep long and deeply, and without any disturbances at all. Whether it was because of the fear of not working the orcs had instilled in his heart, or whether it was simply because dwarves truly are happiest when they are at some task or other, Bilbo did not know -- and he decided it was probably better not to care. Whatever the reason, it gave him a great glow of happiness to see the positive effects of the work, and how at ease Kili had become with asking for what he wanted.

So it was that Bilbo almost let it slip his mind that setting Kili and Fili to work had not been his original object. But Kili, it seemed, had not forgotten. For one day, a little over a week after Fili had first joined his brother in cleaning the kitchen, they were all sitting around the fire after an afternoon washing clothes, when Kili, who had been unusually anxious all that day, suddenly looked up and opened his mouth. No words made an appearance, though, and a moment later Kili looked rather distressed and closed his mouth again. Bilbo saw that he was shaking -- only a very little, but still clear in the cosy light of the living room -- and he sat up and looked worriedly at Fili.

Fili -- of course -- had clearly noticed this odd behaviour, too. He shifted over a little, pressing his shoulder up against Kili’s, but did not speak. Kili glanced at him, and then away, but then he looked back again, staring at Fili’s face as if trying to find something there. Fili sat quietly and let him look, and after a few moments he laid his hand over Kili’s own. 

“Ask, my brother,” he murmured.

Kili’s mouth dropped open a little, and he stared for a moment or two more before suddenly turning to Bilbo.

“I should go pantry?” he asked, so quickly and quietly that Bilbo could barely make out the words. He clenched his fists all of a sudden and ducked his head sharply to let his hair fall across his face. But the words were said, and Bilbo felt all of his mounting worry dissolve into delighted triumph.

“Yes, my lad,” he said. “You should definitely go and sit in the pantry.”

Kili half-collapsed, sagging against his chair so that Bilbo thought if he had been standing, he would surely have fallen down. Fili sat up, reaching out and taking his brother by the upper arms to stop him from folding in on himself entirely. There they sat, the two dwarves, one almost hanging from the support of the other, and they did not speak, and neither did Bilbo, transfixed as he was by the scene. At last, though, Kili raised his head, and on his face he wore an expression of amazement.

“I should go pantry,” he whispered to Fili.

“You should,” Fili said with a slow smile. “You like it there.”

Kili nodded. “I like,” he whispered, looking even more amazed. Then he lurched suddenly to his feet and looked at Bilbo. “I go,” he said.

Bilbo found he was smiling so broadly his cheeks were beginning to ache. “Off you go, then,” he said. “Don’t forget the blanket!” 

Kili nodded, but only stood still for a moment, staring at Bilbo. At last, Bilbo made a little shooing motion with his hands, and Kili turned abruptly and slipped away, seeming rather more clumsy than usual in his progress through the living room. A moment or two later, Bilbo heard the pantry door open, and then close. And then there was nothing but silence.

“Well,” Bilbo said, but could think of nothing to follow it with, so he only looked at Fili and shook his head. “Well,” he said again.

And Fili smiled at him, a slow, delighted smile. “Well, indeed, my friend,” he said. “Well, indeed.”


End file.
